


Knowing me, knowing you

by emimix3



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Difficult Decisions, Falling In Love, Families of Choice, Getting Together, Growing Apart, Growing Up, M/M, Platonic Soulmates, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Trope Subversion/Inversion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-12 14:48:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 22,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21478111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emimix3/pseuds/emimix3
Summary: It was only at thirteen, locked up overnight in a supply closet, with, as his only company, the name in black ink on his wrist, that Dicky realised why he didn’t want to meet his soulmate yet. Because he never will want to.
Relationships: Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann
Comments: 114
Kudos: 341
Collections: OMGCP Big Bang 2019





	1. I Wonder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi ! Here is my entry for the 2019 Big Bang ! 
> 
> I decided to try out the soulmate trope, that I yet to tackle.  
I've been paired with the fabulous [coline7373](https://coline7373.tumblr.com/) who did the art and also battled with my English; thanks also to ToughPaperRound ([AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToughPaperRound/works?fandom_id=1147379)|[Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/garibaldifigroll)) for her beta work ! 
> 
> Hope you enjoy :)

“The name on your wrist, Dicky… It’s the name of the most important person in your life, the one that you will love and who will love you. The one person you were made for, and who was made for you. You’ll be just right for each other.”

“Why, Moomaw?”

“Because it’s how soulmates work. The stars and God, in all their wisdom, decide which person will be the one perfect for you and who will bring the best out of you. And they are always right.”

Dicky was ten, but as he ran his fingers over the nicely written name on his wrist, he felt sick. He didn’t even know why.

* * *

Dicky had two passions: baking, and skating.

He fell into baking when he was born. His mama baked all the time, as she was staying at home to take care of him, so naturally, he began to help her as soon as he was able to stand up by himself. It had been ingrained into him. His Mama taught him the way to do things and how to follow traditional recipes to the letter. He could sleep-bake the family apple pie and the family peach tartlet without any problem by the age of six. He didn’t even bother to weight the flour, the butter, the lard, the fruits – he just knew how to just like his Mama, his Moomaw, his Aunts, and he was so proud of that.

He discovered figure skating by pure chance, when he was still young; his Mama brought him with her to Atlanta, and the place to go to was unusually closed for a few hours, so they killed time in the local rink instead. Neither Dicky nor she had ever worn ice skates before, so they probably looked like a mess, an adult and a child almost old enough to go to school holding each other’s hands on the ice to not fall. Dicky sadly didn’t remember much, only what his Mama told him.

Half of the rink was secured for a bunch of kids around ten years old, who were turning by themselves. Dicky managed to skate for a few metres without his Mama now, and he stopped, to look at them turn and turn and turn.

“They’re pretty, aren’t they?” Mama said with a big smile, when she caught up with him.

“I wanna do the same!” Dicky told her, trying to turn on his two skates to show off.

“You do?”

“Yes, yes! I wanna turn!”

When they left the rink, Mama took some flyers about the figure skating lessons on the way.

* * *

The new neighbours, who moved right next door, were a nice couple. They had lived up North for years for work but had finally came down South to be close to their families. Dicky didn’t pay them any mind or their two daughters, who were toddlers, until his mom came back from Bible study one day, and she invited the friend from the other side of the road for coffee. Dicky was watching TV near them, so he perfectly well heard his mother say, with a conspiratorial tone:

“The new neighbours. They’re not soulmates,” she was shushing. “Or so I’ve heard.”

“But they’re married?” the friend from the other side of the road whispered.

“There’s states up North that let non-soulmates marry,” Mama replied. “Can you believe it? You’d think they’re a normal, loving couple like that…”

“Maybe they’re soulmateless. Or widowers.”

“No, Cathy went to the gym in the next town over with Karen - and she saw her name, and it wasn’t at all Peter’s – and it was still black! Not greyed-out at all!”

“Wow, we really can’t trust people with wristbands,” the friend from the other side of the road said. “It such a shame and such a waste. That’s so selfish of them. To think of their poor soulmates, waiting faithfully for their matches for nothing…”

“The gall!” Mama added. “Letting non-soulmates getting married, what a nonsense… What will be next, really?”

Dicky tried to focus back on the TV.

* * *

Soulmates were just right for each other. Dicky knew that. Dicky saw that. His Moomaw and his Peepaw, Moms and Pops, his Mama and Coach; his aunts, his uncles, his mama’s cousins; his neighbours, his teachers, and already, some of his classmates were all paired up. A name written in black ink on their wrist from the moment they were born told them so, and all those relationships were happy and blooming. Because they were perfect for each other.

Dicky was a romantic at heart, but he didn’t want to meet his other half just yet. He was too small, too young. ‘I am not in a hurry,’ he always told people who asked him. ‘We have all our lives to meet, we don’t have to do it while we’re both still in school.’ (He stole that line from a movie.)

In reality, he was a bit scared. Totally terrified. He saw his classmates who had already paired up, seventh-grade kids, already planning for their life after high school; marrying right after graduation, according to Christian recommendations, needing to make sure to get a job as soon as possible because kids will soon come.

Dicky wanted to get married, wanted to have two kids (a boy and a girl), and a dog, and a nice job with free weekends and a white-picket-fence, really, he dreamt of that, but not for now. Right now, he just needed to focus on figure skating, and school, and avoiding the bullies that made his life complicated because he was too soft.

His soulmate could wait a few more years. Dicky was glad of being alone right now.

It was only at thirteen, locked up overnight in a supply closet, with, as his only company, the name in black ink on his wrist, that Dicky realised why he didn’t want to meet his soulmate yet. Because he never will want to.

_Mary Rose Grace_

_ _


	2. Mathematics

Dicky got a camera from his parents for his birthday after that. He didn’t really know what to do with it. He didn’t feel like photography was _that_ interesting, he didn’t have friends to immortalise memories with, he didn’t do anything really interesting. Maybe he could take a few pictures when he travelled for figure skating? Still, the idea of taking pictures was boring.

He thanked his parents, feigned a convincing smile, and opened the next gift, the one from Aunt Judy – a beautiful, wonderful, delightful copper jam pot.

The camera was forgotten until the evening, when Dicky, bored and unable to sleep, decided to play with the settings – and then he discovered the recording mode. He knew the camera had one, of course – but the image was quite good, and the sound wasn’t half bad.

And he had a stunning copper pot and a new set of baking tins to show off. Dicky had seen cooking videos, of course – lately, one about an apple pie with a lattice that left much to be desired. Maybe – maybe he could remake this video, to show people how it’s done correctly.

It’s not like he had much to do after school after all. He couldn’t focus on homework, he didn’t have anyone to hang out with, and the figure skating season was over.

He filmed himself baking, and then he tried to make use of Windows Movie Maker to edit it to copy the video he had seen, shot for shot.

It wasn’t good at all, but he had all the time in the world to try again – and he would do it, for sure. It was unbelievably fun.

In the middle of summer, he finally made a video without copying another. It was Aunt Judy’s cherry jam recipe’s video, showing off his copper pot, and the editing was okay and the sound not too bad (he had spent all the money he had in mics), so he decided to upload it on YouTube.

It was Aunt Judy’s jam recipe, so he had to keep this video a secret. Mama wouldn’t let him live it down.

* * *

Dicky’s freshman year of high school was a big change for him. He, well, entered high school, for one, and his Daddy got a job back in Madison, their hometown before they had to relocate in Atlanta’s suburbs when Dicky was seven. So they moved, and Dicky didn’t have much choice but to drop figure skating after one last win at the Southern Regionals. Too far, too much. They left their old place because he was bullied for figure skating, anyway.

He went to the same school as his cousin Eric, where his Daddy was now a football coach and a P.E. teacher.

Cousin Eric was two weeks older than him, shared his first name and actually got to be called by it, had been Morgan County’s Middle School Football Team Ace and was popular and had good grades. Mama and Aunt Judy had proposed that he showed Dicky around town and that cousin Eric invited him to hang out with his friends, and cousin Eric (who also was actually a nice person) complied. Dicky didn’t want anything to do with better-Eric. He saw him at church on Sundays and at Moomaw’s after that and that was enough.

So Dicky started hockey, out of school, in a co-ed team with a majority of homeschooled kids and some of his school, too. Three of them he shared a class or another with, and thus, for the first time in way too long, Dicky had people to hang out with at school, even if, let’s be real, hockey kids were considered to be losers.

He was playing hockey, didn’t talk about figure skating and baking, didn’t look at boys and made sure people had seen the name on his wrist. He wasn’t popular, but he wasn’t _bullied_. He was the kid his classmates will probably forget everything about in a few years, and most people didn’t even know he was the football coach’s son, and that was good for him. He just wanted to keep his head low, and go through high school smoothly until he could take off for college.

Of course that wasn’t what happened. In the second month of his sophomore year, a Thursday morning, the homeroom teacher ran late.

Dicky hadn’t finished his maths homework, so that was all good for him. He and Jessica-from-hockey were sitting near the windows to finish their Probabilities packet and talk about the practice they’ll have in the afternoon, and no one was paying much attention to them, as usual.

When the teacher arrived finally, ten minutes after the bell, she had a young girl behind her. Dicky didn’t even bother to look at her more than that – he still didn’t understand how probabilities worked, and his math class was right after the homeroom hour.

“Everyone!” the teacher said, clapping her hands. “Please! Attention, everyone! We have a new student here, she just arrived in town; do you want to introduce yourself?”

“Yes, yes, Ma’am,” the girl peeped. “Nice to meet all of you! I come from Lyons, and I arrived here two days ago! My name is Mary Rose Grace, and I like-”

But the second she said her name, half of the classroom turned towards Dicky.

Dicky who had dropped his pen and was now paying all his attention to the newcomer, grey in the face.

“Hey, isn’t that the name on Junior’s…?” someone asked.

Dicky still didn’t know shit about probabilities, besides the fact that they hated him as much as he hated them .


	3. Pressing On

Mary Rose Grace seemed to be a nice girl. When in the middle of her homeroom class, fifteen minutes after she first walked into her new school so far away from her hometown, her old friends and family, she met her soulmate, she began to sob in joy. The teacher and some of the girls sitting in the first row began to console and congratulate her.

Dicky hadn’t moved to go talk to her. A few of the guys sitting around him, and Jessica, also congratulated him, but he didn’t say anything, because if he opened his mouth, he would puke. Everyone around them was buzzing in excitement – it’s not everyday that you see soulmates meeting!

Thank God, the teacher was quick to draw back the attention to her to tell everyone to stop, because she had a lot of things to tell them all; and at the end of the class, Dicky took his stuff, and all but ran out of the classroom because he _never_ had wanted to go to a maths class that bad.

By lunchtime, everyone knew about the new girl who had found her soulmate in her homeroom class – you know, _Coach’s son_?

There was no way that Coach hadn’t heard of the gossip already, and Dicky didn’t dare to look at his phone to see what he had to say about it. But he couldn’t run forever, so he decided to bite the bullet, and right before he went to the cafeteria, he found Mary Rose Grace to ask her if they could eat together. She was beaming as she told him, _yes, of course!_

She seemed nice and she _was _nice. She was fair-skinned, and she had light brown curls and green eyes, so maybe there would be a possibility for the blonde babies that Moomaw deemed so important, and she had freckles and an easy smile and she hoped _Eric_ liked the sundress she had chosen for her first day of school.

“You don’t have to call me Eric,” he said, and that was one of the only things he had managed to say. “Everyone calls me Dicky, or Junior.”

“If you don’t mind – in my head, I’ve always called you just Eric,” she replied, “so I’d like to continue, now that I know you for real?”

“Yeah,” he said, looking at her rubbing her wrist where Dicky could see, in nice letters, _Eric Richard Bittle_ written, and he felt sick. “Yeah, sure.”

“Perfect! I wonder – how did you call me, in your head? Did you have a nickname for me?”

He didn’t. He didn’t think about her. She had been an abstract concept, far, far away, that he didn’t want to think about. So he just avoided to.

“No, no nicknames. Just Mary Rose.”

“Oh I like it too! My parents call me Rosie – but I’m like, why did you bother to call me _Mary Rose_ then? Call me by my name or call me not, I want to say-”

She talked more, and more, and Dicky could only nod and say great and cry a little inside. He usually had no problem small talking.

* * *

When he came back home after hockey practice, his mom was in the kitchen, and she dropped everything when she heard him entering. Literally, she dropped her pie tin to run up to him and hug him and cry in his hair.

Apparently Coach was already back home, and he had told Mama about Mary Rose.

Dicky hugged his Mama back, but not for the same reasons.

“I’m so happy for you, Dicky.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“So, so glad – Gosh, you’re becoming an adult – so soon you’re gonna get married, and have kids, and have your own life, and-”

“Yeah.”

Coach had arrived, too, and he hugged both his son and his wife.

“I’m proud of you, son.”

Bitty kept this moment in a corner of his head – he’ll be happy to think back about it later, the one time his daddy hugged him and told him he was proud.

“The Graces are coming for dinner tonight,” Mama said, pulling out and brushing away the tears on her face. “Jolene and Hank, your Daddy told me they were called, he’s the one who phoned them you know – they have also a younger daughter, this is so great! I want to meet your Mary Rose as soon as possible! Dicky, you should bake your apple pie to impress them…”

* * *

**Mary Rose, Eric**

> Hello Eric! Now you have my number :)

>> Hi 

> So you really baked the pie we had tonight for dessert? It was incredible! Maybe you should teach me a thing or two haha

>> Yeah why not

* * *

Dicky’s favourite movie, growing up, was an old Alicia Johnson classic, about a woman in love with her soulmateless co-worker. To have a chance, she wore just a bit of foundation on her wrist, just enough so that her own soulmate’s name would look greyed-out, as if he had died. She and the co-worker go on a date, and then, rom-com shenanigans ensue, her soulmate gets hired in her company and recognises her of course, there’s a thousand misunderstandings, and all’s well that ends well and the woman ends up marrying her soulmate that she fell in love with and they live happily ever after.

Its soundtrack was surprisingly good though, and his last free skate was on the first kiss between the woman and the soulmate’s music.

Now, Dicky _hates_ this movie. It’s just a shitty cheap 80’s rom-com, with barely more budget than a Hallmark movie – but he _hates_ it.

* * *

Mary Rose Grace was a popular girl. She was pretty and nice and she began to hang out with the football and the cheer teams and she brought Dicky with her. So Dicky was popular too, a little bit. Mary Rose was so proud of her hockey-player soulmate, and did you know, he had a good shot to become captain of the team next year – ain’t it great? People didn’t bother him as much, now. Who would call him slurs when he was standing right next to the girl who he was going to marry, after all?

Mary Rose had better grades than Dicky, and she understood probabilities, so she proposed to tutor him at home – their parents had been more than happy to let them do so, “_but do NOT close the door when you’re together!”_ She liked the same movies as him and listened to the same music, and she didn’t bake but she didn’t make fun of him for doing so.

She was a nice girl to have as a friend, Dicky guessed.

But she wasn’t his friend, she was his soulmate.

They should get married after high school. Becky and Dylan had already set a date for their wedding, two days after graduation. Helena, a senior in the hockey team, had married her soulmate Tyler last summer before he went to college.

The first year Dicky and Mary Rose had met, no one mentioned anything of the sort to them. But right before their junior year, their mothers had sat them down to ask them about their wedding plans.

“I want a grand wedding,” Mary Rose began. “I’d like my hometown friends as bridesmaids, and some of my new friends too-”

“Do you already have ideas on the colours, on the dress?” a mother asked.

“Yes, so many!”

First of all, no one asked Dicky anything besides his cake opinion.

Second of all, Dicky didn’t _want_ to get married. He’ll _have_ to, but he didn’t _want _to.

“Wait,” he finally found the courage to say, “We’re, hum – there’s still time. You know. Before we get married.”

“What do you mean?” Mama had asked. “It’s not for at least a year, yes, but it’s never too late to begin to look around.”

“It’s – we, well. We don’t have to get married right out of high school.”

The three women had stopped to look in the wedding catalogues, all of them staring at him, not saying anything.

Shit.

“It’s – uhm – (find something, Dicky, find something!) well. You know. There’s college. I’d rather – I’d rather wait after college. Have a job. And pay for it myself – it’s, I. I need to be able to support my family before getting married, don’t I? Otherwise, it’s just, hmm – we have all the time in the world. We’re… We’re meant to be.”

That didn’t seem to convince Jolene and Suzanne, but Mary Rose found that it was a sound argument.

“It’s better if we can pay for the wedding ourselves, no? That’s what people do nowadays. We wait more than back in your old days.”

“’_Our old days’_ are the nineties, young lady,” Jolene said.

“Well, _I_ want to pay for the wedding ourselves,” Mary Rose shrugged. “If we don’t you’ll force us to invite Aunt Muriel and I don’t want that floozy there.”

“Rosie!”

So, that settled it.

* * *

**Dylan, Eric**

> hey we’e organisin a surprise party for Rosie’s BD at the end of July  
> what date work for u better, 22nd or 23rd?

>> 23rd is the Saturday right? Then then

> Ook cool  
> would you be able to distract her durin the dy and bring her at Lisas in the evning you think  
> that where the party is

>> Mmh  
>> Well it’d be weird that I bring her there no? Why would i  
>> Wouldn’t it make more sense that she hang out with Lisa out of town during the day whil we set up everything

> maybe  
> lets see with lisa how we organise it all

* * *

Oliver, of the basket-ball team, was hanging out with the football and the cheer teams a lot lately. He was tall, with beautiful dark skin and warm brown eyes and a smile to die for. Dicky enjoyed eating lunch in the cafeteria next to him, because he always had so many great opinions about food and what made a great meal, even if he himself had way too many protein shakes.

Kevin, a kid of the theatre crew, a handsome one with a witty tongue, got the lead role for whatever musical was on this year; he got outed two weeks later, someone had stolen his wristband while he was changing for PE. He took it in stride and pride, held his head high, and refused to step down from his role because he loved theatre so much. Dicky had never been into musicals, but made sure to get seats for this one production. He didn’t understand the plot much, but Kevin was one dreamy singer and passionate boy.

In the co-ed hockey team, Jessica brought her cousin, Hub, a shy guy a good head taller than Dicky who had never worn skates ever. He was really focused and single-minded, didn’t talk much, but when he did, he was the funniest person in the room. Dicky and Jessica took it upon them to teach him how to skate well enough to at least make an appearance in a game by the end of the season, and the grin he had when he had his first five minutes of ice time!

Dicky was well and truly cursed.

* * *

**Mary Rose, Eric**

> ERIC

>> what now

> you brought my sister to the rink

>> Billie asked me I teach her The Hockey im complying

> And you won’t even teach me how to skate 😘?

>> you want to

> maybe. That could be a nice date

>> I wouldn’t count it as a date you’re just gonna fall on your butt and be cold and have hurt feet

> mmh  
> you’re not selling it well

>> here go my dreams as a publicist

> it’s okay we’ll sell your pies at the market to make ends meet

>> great

* * *

Dicky was named captain of his co-ed hockey team during his senior year. Surprisingly, for the finals of the State tournament in Atlanta, there was a good chunk of Madison High School students in the bleachers.

“Surprise!” Mary Rose and Cousin Eric said to Dicky when he entered the rink and saw so many people there. “We managed to make everyone come to see y’all, isn’t that great?”

“Oh, yes. That’s awesome,” Bitty grinned.

The loss (2-3) didn’t sting as much as he thought it would, especially because that was the last official game with his team. But they had played their best hockey, and there was so many people from the school who came to cheer them, so it was okay.

Dylan, from the football team, had thrown a party at his house that night to celebrate the end of the hockey season. The guy always found a reason to throw a party, every week, but at least for once Dicky’s friends from the team were invited too. Dicky may or may not have finished the night at 10 PM, puking in the bathroom because of how much he drank.

* * *

Dicky went to the Graces’ that Saturday morning, with a decision in his mind and a thing to say.

“I’m going to Samwell to college,” Dicky had blurted out to Mary Rose, his acceptance letters in hand. “In Massachusetts.”

“Oh,” Mary Rose had replied, her own acceptance letters in front of her. “How come? We only applied to school in Georgia and Florida.”

Indeed, they had. Mary Rose hadn’t been too keen on the idea of going to college (“Why does it matter, we’ll have kids soon enough anyway,” she had said. “I won’t have time to get a good job, I’ll get in debt for nothing.”) but Dicky managed to convince her. Because he knew that one day, he’ll have to tell her that it won’t work between them, and they won’t get married, and they won’t have kids, and they won’t live together, so counting on him to bring money to feed everyone wasn’t a good idea.

So they applied for the same colleges, close to one another, as most soulmates teens around them did to not be separated -or at least, not too much.

It would have been close enough to liberty. In the same college as her, but not the same classes (he’d make sure of that), or, better, in different colleges of Georgia and Florida; they’d have to meet only once or twice a month for a weekend, and that would be all.

But at the last minute, Dicky had found at the bottom of his bag the booklet for Samwell, Massachusetts. A college with a huge LGBTQ community. Up North. A place where not marrying your soulmate was frowned upon, yes, but legal. Far, far away.

So, he had applied.

“It was last minute.”

“I’ve been accepted into UGA. Didn’t you want to get in there? They have a hockey team.”

“Samwell too. Div 1, that’s why I applied. I get a scholarship to be on the team.”

“Oh! I see.” Mary Rose smiled. “That’s so great, Eric! I can’t wait to tell everyone.”

“Yeah. It’s pretty great.”

“You should have told me. I’d have applied there too.”

“I’m sorry. I’m pretty sure I had told you, though, maybe I forgot? The past few weeks have been… Busy.”

Dicky wasn’t proud of himself for his lie.

“Maybe I can get transferred next year?” Mary Rose said, putting her letters away in a folder.

“Yeah. Maybe you can.”

* * *

Prom.

Graduation.

After-graduation party.

Summer camp as a counsellor.

Visiting his family and also Mary Rose’s.

August was right around the corner, and Dicky couldn’t wait to get out of here.


	4. First Day of My Life

It was Dicky’s first night in Samwell. His parents and he arrived early in the morning, they had helped him to set up his dorm room, and now he was all alone. He hadn’t met anyone yet. Only student athletes were here, so his roommate wouldn’t be there for a few other weeks. And tomorrow, he’ll meet his team.

That called for a pie. There were ovens down the hall.

He took his wallet, his phone, and left the building to go look for the nearest convenience store. He needed butter.

He got himself a wristband, also.

* * *

**Mary Rose, Eric**

> How are you settling down?  
> I **have** to admit that I’m… Anxious.

>> You only go to college in one week

> For you!

>> Oh.  
>> Don’t be.  
>> It’s okay. There are ovens in the dorm.

> No, about your team. Have you met them? Not every jock is as nice as you or Dylan or Nick or the others you know.

>> Yeah. Not even they are.

> What?

>> Nothing  
>> Listen I’m really tired, I’ll call you tomorrow? 8pm?

> yes let’s do that  
> sleep well

>> you too

* * *

No one asked about the wristband; actually, several other guys of the team also wore one, so they knew the etiquette.

Johnson, the goalie, had one. Fletcher, a senior, had one. Gargantua and Ultron and Coach Murray and Tom-Tom also had one. Shitty had one. Jack too.

Jack was the captain and a little bitch, by the way, not that Bitty would ever say it to the guy.

“Eat more protein”, my ass.

Bittle decided to make sure to spend as little time as possible with this insufferable prick.

* * *

The ovens of the dorm were a disaster. He wouldn’t survive the year. It was so bad that he looked up recipes of _mugcakes_ to cook in _microwaves_.

* * *

During the first party, the second day after the Frogs arrived, Bittle noticed that Ransom and Holster (or maybe Holster and Ransom?) both wore their names out; he had tried to take look, out of habit, but before he managed to read, one of them (who was a bit drunk) shoved his wrist under his nose.

“Look Bitty! My name! That’s so cool!”

On his wrist was written _Lea Cayabyab. _Bittle didn’t know what was so cool about that – he didn’t know any celebrity who had this as her real name.

But before he could ask, Holster (Ransom?) had grabbed Ransom’s (Holster’s?) wrist to show Bittle too.

On the other’s wrist, it was _Emma Cayabyab _that was written.

“Oh, wow,” Bittle said.

“That’s cool, no?” one asked.

“We’re best friends, and our soulmates are probably sisters!” the other added, grinning. “Our kids will be cousins!”

“Bro, we’re not just _best friends_. We’re _brothers._”

“Bro…”

“Bro.”

“Oh. That’s cute?” Bittle tried, not really knowing what he should say.

Around this time, Shitty (Bitty remembered _his_ name, there was no problem here) arrived, topless, and put his arms around Bitty’s shoulders.

“You want cute? I’ll give you cute Bitty. See that?” he pointed behind him. Two freshmen of the team were making out. “Ollie and Wicks found each other. Like, five minutes ago.”

“Oh my God! That’s SWAWESOME!” Ransom (Holster?) yelled.

“Where’s the champagne? We need some champagne here! A pair! In the team!”

Ransom and Holster left immediately, probably looking for more alcohol as if there wasn’t enough of it at this kegster.

“Oh, wow,” Bitty just said. “They’re soulmates, uh?”

“Yes. A problem with that?” Shitty said, looking straight in his eyes above his sunglasses.

“Oh, no. No. That’s good. Great. Wow.”

Definitely, Bitty couldn’t have found a better team to end up in.

* * *

**Mary Rose, Eric**

> How was the party?

>> I am NOT hungovre  
>> thats bcim still drunk

> Eric it’s 2pm.

>> Yeah that was a joke.  
>> I made it to the guys when I met them for lunch and a few laughed?  
>> Then again Ollie and Wicks seem to be on cloud nine right now so they laughed at everything  
>> (They’re two guys of the team they’re in my year)

> Oh cool. They nice?

>> They seem. I didn’t get to talk to them much yesterday?  
>> They got paired up.  
>> Together.

> Oh

>> So yeah they were busy

> Good for them

>> … That’s cool isn’t it

> I guess

>> mmh. So you finished packing up for the semester?

* * *

Ok so. The hockey house, the “Haus” had an oven. A barely functioning oven, but it did the job well enough. When he realised that, Bitty all but moved in in there - finally. A place. Where he could _bake_.

Good thing – once the residents began to taste his pies on a daily basis, the butter and flour and all the ingredients, really, began to flood the Haus without Bitty having to pay for half of them.

Bad thing – college was great but college was hard. Bitty needed to spend more time on his homework and less on his pies. Jack still refused to eat anything after trying a slice the first time.

Good thing – college was great and hard, and college was _diverse. _And Bitty, who lately was feeling guilty about his meat consumption, ended up eating everyday in the dinner hall that offered various vegetarian and vegan options. After one week only, Bitty turned almost totally vegetarian in one snap of his fingers.

Bad thing – he still had a hard time making balanced vegetarian meals. Hence the “eat more protein” remark that made Zimmermann an insufferable prick. And he was ‘almost totally vegetarian’ because he was taught to bake with lard, and he was still baking with lard.

Good thing – after almost a month, he managed to finally cut the lard off his baking, and it was still as good. Even better if you asked him, without the surplus of fat and the guilt.

Bad thing – this lard was family tradition. He was feeling bad to have stopped following it.

Good thing – who was he kidding, he loved that he could stop following this one tradition that made him feel _bad_. Also now, Jack was eating his pies.

Bad thing – now that they were ‘friends’, Jack the insufferable prick was waking Bitty up at 4 AM on a regular basis to shove him into boards so he could get over his checking block.

Good thing – what is the good thing here. There’s none. Bitty didn’t come here to suffer, okay?

* * *

Family weekend came and went, (luckily for him, it was the same weekend for both him and Mary Rose, so her parents Jolene and Hank, who had told him during the summer that they wanted to come, went instead to UGA, thus only Mama came up North), and after that Bitty learnt more about Jack with one quick Wikipedia search than he did in three months of knowing the guy. That’s ‘tall, broody and mysterious’ for you.

He also felt like there was more to the story than what was on Wikipedia, but who knows. Jack had apologised after the Family Weekend, when he woke Bitty up at 4 AM once again for another checking clinic, and now he was still a prick, but slightly less insufferable. Maybe one day they’ll upgrade from ‘friends’ to friends, and Jack would tell him more about it. Maybe not. Bitty wasn’t sure of what to think about the man.

* * *

**Class of 2013 MHS**

_Dylan_  
> I have a plan to gt tothe law students’ party in the club near rhe library tomorrow for those in atlanta  
> open bar wont get carded once in

_Lisa  
_> The gay club?

_Dylan_  
> Lol youre nuts  
> no the electro one

_Lisa  
_> Im in

_Oliver  
_> ✌🏾✌🏾

_Mary Rose  
_> I so am not LOL

_Dylan_  
> Rosie you STINK

_Nick  
_> Im NOT in Georgia at all haha too bad

_Dylan_  
> nah bro  
> you’re here for thanksgiving? You come sleepover @becky n I’s  
> lets organise a thing with all the squad

_Mary Rose  
_> YES

_Naomy  
_> SO much

_Oliver_  
> NAO IS THAT TRU HAVE YOU FOUND YOUR BOY IN CALI

_Naomy_  
> IT IS TRU IM SO GLAD WE JUST MOVED IN TOGETHER

_Read, 10:24pm_

* * *

Holster and Ransom tried to pressure him into giving them his soulmate’s name, so they could help him search for _her_, maybe she was on campus, and if not they could arrange him a date with someone else for Winter Screw, maybe they don’t do it like that in the South but here it was okay (for a lot of people at least) to date before meeting your better half, don’t you think so, yada yada.

Bitty didn’t know what to do.

So, in a big gay panic, he came out to Shitty in a flurry of flashcards. It was terrifying.

Ollie and Wicks were soulmates and an item and no one in the team was batting an eye. The guys were good guys. It would be okay.

Still, Bitty rambled and rambled until he dropped his cards and he said:

“I’m gay.”

And then, he added:

“And I don’t have a soulmate.”

“That’s cool, bro.”

That was as simple as that.

Bitty felt like his life just started now.


	5. Dancing Queen

Sixteen. Holster and Ransom lined up _sixteen_ boys for Bitty to choose to take on a date at the Winter Screw. Someone needed to tell those guys to calm the heck down.

(Bitty went with a nice swimmer and they danced and laughed but that was it, nothing more, nothing less. Still, it was a great night.)

After that, Bitty stayed at Samwell for the Christmas break – they had games during the break, and he couldn’t come back to Georgia only for three or four days at most. The majority of the guys were living near, so they went back home for Christmas, but Jack, Holster and Ransom stayed at the Haus. Shitty loaned his bed to Bitty to stay there too, and after Bitty went to the church he had heard about on the Queer Samwell Students Facebook page, the four of them hung out in their pyjamas while eating Chinese take-out (Holster and Jack insisted) and traditional Nigerian food that Ransom tried to cook with his mom through Skype (her Christmas speciality) and of course, a pie or three, and they exchanged some Secret Santa under-five-bucks gifts and Bitty didn’t feel as homesick as he thought he would.

* * *

**Mama, Eric**

>> Merry Christmas Mama!!! 🎄🎄🎄🎉🎉

> Im so sorry you couldn’t come down home sweetheart  
> your daddy and I should have come

>> Don’t worry Mama im not alone, the guys are here and we’re having fun  
>> [Picture of Ransom and Holster in red Christmas hats and ugly sweaters – they’re sleeping on top of each other on the Green Couch. Jack is on the armchair, also sleeping – contrary to Holster, he refused the Christmas paraphernalia but wears the biggest, comfiest, ugliest pullover in three slightly different shades of red that his grandma had handknitted terribly for him. On the table in front of the boys, there are the leftovers of eggnog and food.]  
>> They’re all still sleeping

> Haha sounds fun lol  
> We’re heading to Moomaw for lunch

>> Kiss her for me  
>> Also can you drop at the Graces’ the gifts I sent home?

> Did it yesterday

>> Great  
>> Love you

> Love you  
> Your Daddy says hello

* * *

Ok so.

Lardo.

Lardo was short, Lardo was small, Lardo was a force to not be messed with and Lardo was the team manager who had just came back from her semester in Kenya.

Spring semester began surprisingly well with her around. She was great friends with Ransom and Holster, and managed to _mellow_ _Jack Zimmermann_, and Shitty and her were in each other’s pockets so, naturally, Bitty began to hang out with her too. She liked fresh fruit pies best.

* * *

Honestly classes were boring. If there wasn’t hockey, Bitty would never have gone to college. He wasn’t even sure he’d make it through all four years, to be honest. Why didn’t he go to culinary school, uh?

Mary Rose seemed to do well, if her texts were any indication. Had great grades in the mismatched classes she was interested in, was friends with girls in a sorority and would probably join them, she seemed to really enjoy her college experience. Bitty did too, truly, but boy, _homework. _And _grades_.

* * *

**Morons Club**

_Shitty_  
>

_Holster  
_> haha

_Bitty_  
>> HOW DARE YOU SHITTY CRAPPY KNIGHT  
>> HER GRAMMY PERFOMANCE WA GREAT OK

_Jack  
_> what are the grammys

_Bitty  
_>> Hun I truly do not have the patience to explain it to you rn

_Jack  
_> :-(

_Bitty  
_>> … You’ll get a crash course at the haus tonight

_Lardo  
_> Yes bits, please educate this mussel stuck on its rock

_Jack  
_> :-)

* * *

Lardo came back home one day with a guy in tow, who looked like the lovechild of a hipster artboy and Shitty with clothes. And he was talking like a douche. Bitty, who was baking while Holster was working at the kitchen table, wasn’t impressed when he heard the guy, in the living-room, talk about one of the art professors with Lardo.

“Condescending much?” Bitty bitched to Holster.

“I know, right? Dresses like a douche, talks like a douche – but Lardo likes him, so.”

Holster joined them in the living-room soon after that, and Lardo came in the kitchen to fetch some coffee. Bitty couldn’t help but ask her about the guy.

“Oh? Well. It’s Darren – my soulmate.”

“Your _what_?”

For some reason, Bitty was persuaded that Lardo’s soulmate was Shitty. Maybe the jokes the guys made. The innuendos. The way the two of them were gravitating round each other.

But no? She was _paired up_? With _Darren_? Who was a _douche_?

“He’s a bit of an asshole, but he’s not a piece of shit,” she shrugged.

“And you’re… Hmm…”

Bitty himself didn’t know how to finish his sentence. He just joined his two hands together, making some kissing sounds.

“God, _no_,” Lardo immediately said. “We’d kill each other.”

“But…”

“But nothing. I’m bi, he’s straight, that’s still not what our bond is,” she explained.

“So, uh. If I may ask. What are you?”

It was the first time, Bitty thought, that he talked with someone like him – someone who wasn’t interested romantically in their soulmate. He knew it existed, that some people made do – he heard his mom talk about the married neighbors when he was a kid, he heard about guys in sports team having no-homo platonic bonds with one of their teammates – but still. It was so foreign. So out of place.

“We’re soulmates,” Lardo replied. “And partners.”

That didn’t answer his question. Lardo must have seen the look on his face, because she added:

“We found each other during my freshman year, he was a sophomore. He had made a whole art project the year before, about _me_, because the theme was love or something, so of course the project was covered with his soulmate’s name. The professor must have remembered it, because when I was in freshman year she recognised me and basically set us up and upped me in his class and now we’re always paired up for group projects. We quickly realised that we _wouldn’t_ work romantically, but artistically? The guy is _good_. And he _gets me_. The work we do together is _great. _I know it, he knows it, the profs know it. We're never gonna be kissing buddies but I know that I want us to work together until the end of days. Plus – yeah, he’s fun to be around. He’s got not a humble bone in his body and zero self-awareness, but he’s not _mean_. And I’m manager of a men’s sports team, so I’m used to it.”

“Oh… Ok. That’s great,” Bitty said, non-committedly.

Lardo went back to the living-room, and from the kitchen, Bitty saw them work on their art project. Yes. They worked well together.

* * *

**Mary Rose, Eric**

> I think I’d like a big dog one day, like a newfoundland  
> Will you rather want a cat or a dog

>> Two rabbits

* * *

Bitty wasn’t fainting anymore when he was checked, he didn’t even freeze, and he was now a permanent fixture on the first line. He and Jack played so well together, and he wasn’t a sufferable prick anymore. He was a sufferable dork. And he had been upgraded from ‘friend’ to friend, so honestly, all was great.

* * *

One day, Bitty was watching TV in the less dirty armchair of the Haus. Shitty was sprawled on the couch next to him, napping, and honestly? Bitty wondered _how_. There was no way in hell that _he_ would touch said couch, so laying on it? NAKED? There was something wrong with Shitty, really.

He moved around some, and his arm was now openly visible from where Bitty was sitting.

He wasn’t wearing his wristband. Bitty pried his eyes away, to the TV. He wouldn’t want anyone to see his own name, he needed to keep his eyes to himself. But the temptation was too great. Just a peak.

_Deborah Kaufmann_, in nice cursive letters. They were light grey.

Bitty regretted looking.


	6. Summer Paradise

When summer came, Bitty came back home with his suitcases, a vegetarian diet, too much homework, a ton of new friends and a concussion. That was a lot.

He left his wristband at the bottom of his toiletry bag, though.

Mama and Coach were happy to see him, of course, but Bitty couldn’t help but long for August, and going back to school.

The summer break would be okay, of course – he had a job as a summer camp counsellor lined up, keeping him busy and providing him with some spending money for the year.

So all week, his days were pretty full, and his evenings could be spent “resting” (read, hiding in his room with his computer and a stable Internet connection) because well, work is exhausting and he _does_ have a concussion, but sadly for him his weekends were free.

And Mary Rose was here all summer and Mary Rose was a social butterfly – so Mary Rose and he were invited to all the parties of the Madison County. Mama and Coach were more than glad to push him out of the house every Saturday evening.

One of the first weeks of June, there was a party at Debra’s, who was a good friend of Mary Rose and was in school to become a dental hygienist or something like that. Bitty had managed to bow out of the party the week before by using the concussion card, but he had no such luck this time. He took the truck to go pick up Mary Rose; Mama had gone on a tangent about how she knew there would be alcohol, so he better stay for the night if he drank, and Coach had pulled him aside and gave him a box of condoms and an awkward pat on the shoulder.

Little did he know of what a waste of money it was. This pack of Durex would most certainly meet its expiration date.

The Graces were so happy to see him, and hugged him as soon as he rang the bell to get Mary Rose.

“Rosie’s dolling herself up,” Jolene explained, as she invited Bitty in. “Why don’t we take a cup of coffee meanwhile?”

Bitty let himself be led to the kitchen, and Jolene fixed him and Hank cups of coffee and provided a small plate of scones – homemade.

“You made them yourself? Or Hank?” Bitty asked politely.

“Hank? Haha, of course not,” Jolene laughed. “I used a recipe from your mom, but I’m not proud of the result.”

Oh yeah, Mama’s recipe with butter _and_ lard. That was pig fat. That Bitty was carefully but unsuccessfully avoiding since he came back home, because it wasn’t _that_ vegetarian. A recipe that, even besides his new diet, was a disaster in Bitty’s humble opinion.

“If I may – there’s too much fat in this recipe. Use only butter, or if you want to still use both you should really cut down the quantities.”

“So you’re still cooking, son?” Hank asked, as he was sweetening his coffee.

“Baking, yes,” Bitty replied. “My team has a house with a kitchen in it, I used it way too much this year…”

“I’ve seen some of your games, on the Internet – starting line huh? That’s impressive.”

“I have a good team to work with. Jack - he’s, you know, the captain - really helped me out this year. And everyone else is absolutely delightful.”

“I heard you got a concussion?” Jolene worried, touching his head. “That’s not too bad, I hope?”

“Oh, no. I make do. Gonna be cleared for ice time by the time the semester begins!”

“That’s great,” Hank said. “I’m proud of you, son - I showed your games to my coworkers, you know -”

“He can’t stop doing this,” Jolene said, rolling her eyes with a conniving smile. “’_Look! It’s my son-in-law! He’s great ain’t he?’_”

“Haha,” Bitty gulped down.

He left the Graces bickering, trying to focus on the too-fatty scone with pork in his hand instead. If he crumbled it down enough, he could get away with only eating half of it.

Billie Violet, Mary Rose’s little sister, was playing in the yard. Bitty could see her from the window. He probably should come over an afternoon to hang out with her. Bitty liked to play baseball with her.

“Eric! You’re already here!”

Bitty started. Mary Rose had just entered the kitchen. She was wearing a nice sundress, sneakers, and some discreet make-up – and she obviously had spent _so long_ on her hair, to give it a casual, ‘I-just-put-two-pins-in-there-and-bam!-magic’ look. Bitty knew exactly the one, he had spent countless hours helping his female friends with their hairdos when he was still figure skating.

“You’re very pretty,” he said, honestly, as he got up.

“Oh, charmer,” she laughed. “So, let’s go?”

“Yeah, sure,” he complied, linking his arm with hers.

They quickly bid their goodbyes, promised to not drive if they drank, before they left for the party.

Sometimes, during high school, Bitty wondered if all those people would be talking to him if it wasn’t for Mary Rose.

She was an easy-going girl, and nice and smiling, and a good person, and she wasn’t a closeted gay man into girly hobbies and who barely talked to people because of trauma related to years of bullying that he _knew_ existed, but swept under the rug because that was the best way to deal with things.

Now, in Mary Rose’s best friend’s house in Buckhead, Georgia, as he was nursing his third warm beer of the night while hanging next to Dylan, who shared classes with him for four years, in an awkward silence because they didn’t have anything to say to each other, well now Bitty realised that, yes. All those people talked to him because of Mary Rose.

He had friends before her, like Jessica and others from hockey, but even then… He went to Samwell. Met Ransom and Holster, who were the best guys on Earth, and Shitty and Lardo and Jack. Actually became _friends_ with them all. He had a less superficial relationship with Ollie and Wicks than he had with Jessica.

He was in the middle of a party that could definitely rival with Holster and Ransom’s kegsters, and he was _bored_. He hadn’t baked anything, so couldn’t pass plates to feed people and start the most random conversations. No one gave a shit about hockey so that wasn’t something he could just talk about. The dancefloor was definitely, one hundred percent, a no-go-zone, even if Bey was blasting. He couldn’t flirt with cute boys and chirp Jack endlessly for coming downstairs in sweatpants at two AM in the middle of the party just to get an glass of orange juice.

Mary Rose was dancing with her girl friends, and Dylan next to him didn’t look like he would like to talk, so Bitty took out his phone.

It was in silent mode. He had two missed calls from Ransom.

Shit.

Quickly, he dodged away from the living-room, making his way upstairs.

Ransom wasn’t having a good day, close to a panic, and Holster was visiting family in Europe and it was the middle of the night there – but it was nothing that Bitty couldn’t handle with some reassuring words in a few minutes. And when Ransom began to breathe correctly again, Bitty opted to continue to talk to him, having way more fun there than down at the party anyway.

Ransom was really feeling better, because soon enough he was regaling him with the story of what his sister did during the last family reunion.

As Bitty was telling him all about the kids in the summer camp, some footsteps could be heard in the hallway. Bitty would recognise the click of those heels anywhere.

“Sorry Rans, I have to go – let’s Skype tomorrow.”

“_Ok. Thanks, bro. Love you.”_

The door opened, and indeed, Mary Rose was behind it, grinning at him. She had had a drink or two too many.

“Same,” Bitty said to Ransom, before hanging up.

“Hey,” Mary Rose smiles, closing the door behind her.

“Hey.”

She made her way to him, both hands behind her back and grinning way too much. Bitty felt like a mouse in an old cat lady’s house.

“So, you like the party?” Mary Rose asked, sitting on the bed, right next to Bitty.

Uh oh.

“Mmh. Well. Reminds me of college parties, I guess,” he tried.

“Good thing there’s this empty room so we can unwind, right?”

“Yeeeah. Right.”

Bitty was fidgeting with his phone on his lap, wishing to teleport everywhere on this earth that wasn’t _here_, in his soulmate’s friend’s little brother’s bedroom in Buckhead, Georgia, with his soulmate looming over him with _intent_ that he didn’t want to reply to, had never wanted to reply to, will never want to reply to.

She was so close that he couldn’t shoot a text to the group chat, hoping that someone would phone him and make up an emergency. Why wouldn’t Ransom call him _now_, instead of ten minutes ago?

He didn’t know what to do, just that he should do something. She was getting closer.

He gulped down. She was about to kiss him.

At the last second, he turned his head. He wanted it to be subtle, but he jerked like he had put two fingers in the plug socket, and hit her nose with his head.

Fuck.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Eric?” she asked, holding her nose.

“I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”

“No! It hurts! Why did you pull away?”

“Because -because.”

She had tears in her eyes. Bitty didn’t know if it was because of the accidental hit or not.

“What the hell, Eric. What have I done wrong. Why haven’t we kissed yet?”

Oh, shit. Shit, shit. It was a Conversation.

“It’s… I…”

_It’s normal. I am gay. Sorry. I can’t be what everyone wants us to be. I hope you’ll find a great guy._

“I know you’re a good Christian boy and you want to wait until marriage, but, Eric, hear me out… You don’t want to get married while we’re still in school, when we’re States away, and I understand – but we don’t _have _to wait! People won’t know and those who do, they can’t judge us, they did the same! Debra – she’s not married yet, and still. She and her soulmate still did it. I feel like all of my friends from high school did it already, and in college – Eric, in college, around me there’s so many people who haven’t met their soulmates yet, or who don’t have one, and they do it with everyone they want! It made me uneasy at first, and proud to have a soulmate who was certain enough in us to wait it out; but Eric, I’m jealous. I’m jealous that everyone gets to try, and _I haven’t even been kissed_, and I don’t have any excuse because_ I’ve met my soulmate_.”

“I…”

** _It’s normal. I am gay. Sorry. I can’t be what everyone wants us to be. I hope you’ll find a great guy._ **

“Say something!”

“I’m sorry. I’m not comfortable kissing you.”

That was true. But that wasn’t the good answer, considering her glassy eyes and her wobbly lip.

“Mary Rose… Don’t you think, that uh – maybe, you deserve a first kiss that's more romantic? Something better than you and me, drunk, in a kid’s bedroom with _Party in the USA _blasting downstairs?”

“Yes. Maybe,” she sniffled. “Our first kiss will come when it comes, and it’ll be perfect when it does.”

“Yes. That.”

Mary Rose got up, and excused herself, wiping her tears away. She closed the room behind her, and Bitty, who was stuck in this house because Debra had taken everyone’s car keys to avoid drunk driving, sat down on the floor between the closet and the dresser to cry.

The following day, Bitty made a Vlog about hangover and comfort food, and a New England special apple pie with shredded cheddar.


	7. Over and Over Again

**Morons Association**

_Bitty  
_>> When are yall back haus

_Holster_  
> next week  
> were already roatriping  
> [Picture of Ransom driving, focused on the road. He’s throwing a peace sign towards the phone without looking]

_Shitty_  
> next week too bc theres no one rn  
> as soon as someone arrived ill be there

_Jack_  
> I am still visiting my grandparents  
> I would like to share a picture

_Bitty  
_>> Please do!!

_Lardo  
_> GRANPS GRANPAS GRANPS

_Holster  
_> GRAMNPS GRAMSP GRAMPSZ

_Shitty  
_> grandps*3

_Jack_  
> Wait  
> [Picture: terribly framed selfie of an old man with a kippa and a little old lady on both sides of Jack. There’s tea mugs in front of them and they’re grinning. Except Jack, who is slightly less grumping than usual.]  
> Saba is algerian so he makes us drink four litres of mint green tea a day

_Holster_  
> you need at least that you Canadian snowflake you’re I the middle of the desert  
> I visited him when I visited family in israel this summer, he turned into a whole lobster  
> also his grandma tried to set me up with all his non paired female cousins because I was nice and jewish

_Jack  
_> with the ones who are paired with a guy with a goyishe-sounding name, also

_Bitty  
_>> You probably should have let her wingman you, that would have been the only action you’d had have of all summer

_Lardo  
_> 😂😂😂

_Holster  
_> JUST YOU WAIT I SEE YOU ILL SEND YOU FYING ACROSS THE ROOM

_Bitty  
_>> try to get me first lol

* * *

If the first year in Samwell was great, the second was _swawesome_.

Bitty was now living in the Haus – with full access to the kitchen, and to his friends! He knew enough about college life to not feel lost for weeks, but he didn’t have a lot of responsibilities or big deadlines yet. He’d got a bunch of frogs to order around (_Ehm, nicely ask them to help out_) and great classes – Jack had mocked him for not being able to take a History of Food senior class because of hockey practices, but thankfully the coaches randomly decided to switch practice days and now Bitty could take it, along with Jack.

Oh yes. Hockey. So there was this _small_ _issue_.

Concussion didn’t help him get any better regarding checking. He was back to the starting point, with his fainting goat routine and the bad dreams and the panic attacks. The coaches heavily implied to him that, well, cutting him off the team wouldn’t be out of the question.

So here he was, once again, being woken up three times a week at half past four in the goddamn morning by one Jack Laurent Zimmermann to go run laps before getting checked into oblivion into the boards. At least now Jack had the politeness to buy him some coffee after ramming into him all morning.

Wait no. Not like that.

Jack was a nice boy, not painful to look at, hilarious once you knew him and so clever and passionate, but _no_. No no no, not like that.

Jack was a straight boy who was waiting for his nice soulmate and they’ll have 2.1 pretty blond Christian babies together.

Okay maybe not blond – and definitely not Christian. But the idea was there.

Bitty should get over this ridiculous crush, like, _yesterday._

* * *

**Mary Rose, Eric**

>> How are your classes

> Good. I’m learning Turkish and Irish don’t ask questions 😂

>> Haha  
>> I have a food history seminar

> sounds great.

* * *

The Frogs were love. The Frogs were great. The Frogs could be mean little blokes but doesn’t that mean that, at the bottom of our hearts, we’re all a little Frog?

There was Chowder who was a kitten and a ray of sunshine, and Nursey who wasn’t chill one second but was so clever and interesting to talk to, and there was Dex who was an angry crab and someone with a wide skillset that included fixing capricious ovens.

Chowder was by far the cutest. To top it off, one day the team was having piggyback races on campus, and Chowder ran into the volley-ball team and pushed down a girl accidentally – he helped her get up, and doing so, he noticed her wrist and dropped her once again.

That’s how he met Caitlin Farmer, his soulmate, and Bitty was dying of cuteness overload, really.

* * *

No one came for Family weekend this year, Coach had a game and Mama stayed in Georgia because cousin Eric’s first baby was just born a few days before, so Jolene and Hank didn’t want to come up by themselves.

Bitty sighed in relief when he learnt that.

* * *

“You know,” Shitty began.

Bitty and him were seated on the rooftop of the hostel they were staying at for this roadie, under a blanket and right next to an outdoor heater. Most of the guys were playing a card game at the table near, but Bitty and Shitty both arrived too late to hear the rules and didn’t really want to play anyway.

Bitty turned towards his friend.

Shitty saying ‘you know’ was often the beginning of an awful joke.

“Today is my soulmate’s birthday.”

Oh, no.

Bitty didn’t say anything, just put his hand on his friend’s knee.

“She’s dead, you know?” Shitty said with a sad tone.

Bitty wasn’t supposed to know, so he shook his head.

“She would have been twenty.”

“Had you… Ever met her?”

“No. She- When I was fifteen, or something, my name turned grey one night. It was awful, I was inconsolable. My parents – they spent so much money, just to try to find her family after that. They found her parents. She lived in Canada, and – and she had left me a letter, a letter to her soulmate with my name and everything, to tell me she was sorry for what she did. She had been bullied at school and something had happened at home when she was living with her mother and her step-father, something bad, so when she visited her dad she… Well. It was a terrible letter. That’s all I have of her. I didn’t even have it for a while – I gave it to the police so some justice could be done, but. It was too late for her, wasn’t it?”

“Shitty…”

“I want to be a lawyer so that people who lived through hell like her can get some justice, too.”

“I’m sure she’d be so proud of you, Shits.”

“Well, you can’t know that. I’ll never know that.”

Bitty wasn’t sure of what he could, and should say, to that. So he just hugged Shitty closer.

* * *

**Mary Rose, Eric**

> how are you

>> fine and you

> fine  
> what’s up

>> not much

**Ransom, Bitty**

> yo bits bring your perky lil ass to the attic were having a musical party

>> no way  
>> I hate musicals  
>> holster I heard you yell ‘what’ im riggt below yall

> BITS HOW  
> you can’t leave me alone between jack n holster during musical night  
> they’re awful  
> AWFUL BITS.

>> 🤷♂️  
>> you trying to convince me hun bc its not working

> we’re watching grease  
> Jack’s mom is in this one  
> also you might as well come there’s no way you wont hear holster sing from ur room anyway

>> uuuh I hope your providing beer.

* * *

In fucking _love_.

Bitty, Idiot 3000, fell in freaking_ L O V E _and someone should stop the disaster gay that he was.

He complained on his Vlog about it. More than one of his two hundred followers commented or DM’d him something among the lines of “mood” or “big same” but none had any advice on how to deal with the shit his brain and his heart put him into.

Because he was, in **_LOVE_**, with Straight Boy Alpha Jack Laurent Zimmermann or Zimerman or Dzimaman, who freaking knows how to write this bullshit name, definitely not Bitty and that’s terrible when he daydreams about them getting married and hyphenating their names, anyway, that was **stupid **and Bitty was **stupid** and Jack was **stupid **(there was no way around it, love or not, Bitty wasn’t blind and he knew that Jack, who wrote “google.ca” in the Google Chrome search bar to open “the Google” wasn’t the sharpest knife shoe of the rink) and now Jack was _baking_ with him and _chirping _him and Bitty was too far gone and he needed to _stop_.

It wasn’t a childish crush anymore. It was full-blown love and Bitty knew better.

(And then, Jack was snickering at him during dinner because he stole one of his fries without Bitty noticing, and, well, Bitty realised that he _knew nothing_.)

* * *

During Epikegster, Bitty flirted with _Jack Zimmermann_ and he met _Kent Parson_, of the Las Vegas Aces and it was the best day of his life.

Then, Bitty _heard_ Kent Parson absolutely crushing Jack to the ground and to say that his night went downhill was an understatement.

Heck.

What could he do.

He never felt so helpless in his entire life.

It was late, the party was dying down, so he baked.

* * *

Christmas break was a breeze. He had convinced his parents to go ski (the first time for all three of them! First white Christmas, also.) He had sent small presents to all his friends, had gotten to talk with Jack, a little – and once he was back in Madison, he hung out a lot with Mary Rose and her sister Billie Violet at the movies – Billie had a newfound passion for them, and she was really impressed that Bitty was friends with _Alicia Zimmermann’s son_ and even got to meet her.

Still, going back home was the best part of the break.

* * *

**Jolene, Eric**

>> Hi Jolene, Mary Rose told me Billie had broken her phone this morning  
>> There’s an old phone of mine at my parents’, on my desk, the screen is shattered but it’s working, she can have it

> Thank you so much 😃! We won’t have time to drive her to get a new one until at least next week 😥  
> I just got this morning the present you sent for hank’s BD, I’m wrapping it up and I’ll give it him on Saturday!

>> Great  
>> Mary Rose will be at the party right? She had asked me about coconut cookies so I made a batch, it’s in the package too

> You’re perfect you know that lol 😂😂

* * *

“What do you mean, _you don’t know if you have a soulmate_’?”

Dex’ tone was shocked, and, to say the least, Bitty was, too. What did Nursey mean, indeed?

“I don’t know if I have a soulmate,” Nursey repeated, playing with his wristband. “My parents put me a wristband on as soon as I was born, without looking, and I haven’t looked ever since. I always keep it covered and I close my eyes when I clean my wrist. I don’t know if there’s something there.”

“But _why_?” Chowder asked.

“Because _why_ would I need to know? I don’t need that. I’ll fall in love when I’ll fall in love, and if my soulmate and I are really meant to be, then we will be. My mom also had her wrist covered since she was born, you know – she still found my dad.”

“Your parents are soulmates?”

“Yeah. My dad recognised her name, was very upset she didn’t seem to recognise his, so he kept flirting and insisting he was her soulmate – she just told him he better prove it to her, then. She checked her wrist when he proposed to her, to see if they really were soulmates, or if, maybe, my dad was paired with one of her homonyms, if he had tattooed her name. And yes, it was his name here – but if not, she probably would have still married him. But like, in another State, where they lived didn’t authorise non-soulmates marriages back then.”

“Aw, that’s so cute,” Chowder gushed.

“I can think of a thousand ways to fake a bond,” Dex just said. “So that’s what you want to do? Wait for someone who claims they’re paired up with you and check at the last minute if it’s true?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I’d check immediately. Maybe I’d never check. Maybe I’d check if we wanted to have kids. States around here don’t have soulmates-only marriages anyway, so I could just never check. I find it kinda romantic. Being able to fall in love, freely, and maybe, I’ll find The One.”

“Oh, wow. How freeing, indeed,” Dex said, rolling his eyes.

“What, now. ‘Marriage is between a girl soulmate and a boy soulmate and everything deviating from that doesn’t deserve the appellation of ‘relationship’?’ I tell you, Poindexter, the way I live _my_ soulmate experience won’t make _your _bond worth any less.”

Dex got up from the Green Couch of Death.

“I don’t have a soulmate, and there’s nothing _freeing_ about being told by society that you can’t love people in a worthy way, but go off, I guess.”

And he stormed out.

Bitty just sighed in despair. Frogs were love, Frogs were life, but Frogs needed to shut the fuck up sometimes.

* * *

**Jack, Bitty**

> what is the song

>> what song now

> you know  
> the one  
> that goes dududududu

>> 😐

> I’m pulling your leg.  
> But now I know you’re on your phone instead of studying, Bittle.

>> You got me this time but just you wait 😤

**Holster, Bitty**

> we’ve got a plan to crash a meds grads party tomorrow u in  
> shitty rans and lards are coming too

>> I so am in you kiddin

> great  
> also m going to the pool this afternoon with chowder wanna come  
> as your prof aint here today

>> after 3? Wanna finish editing next vid first


	8. Firework

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW; mention of self-harm

March arrived and Bitty was feeling like a plastic bag.

Shitty had pissed him off. Couldn’t stop bringing up stats and studies that he only knew about for two days (since his prof gave him a presentation on the subject) on the subject of “Fake-mateless people”.

“_But you see, Bits, when a kid is born with a soulmate name of the same sex the parents are just hiding it – at birth, the Doc just immediately take some skin on their thigh or their ass to cover their wrist, before the name can be registered, and the kiddo grows up thinking they’re soulmateless! It’s especially Christians in the Bible Belt who do that, _(wrong, Shitty. Bitty saw the stats. There were awful people doing that everywhere.) _and with a minimum of money because you need to bribe the Doc because it’s totally illegal, but it’s so common, they just routinely do it at the same time they circumcise nowadays, as if it wasn’t barbaric enough- _(Jack had frowned at that)_ anyway I’m saying that, maybe, that’s what happened to you, and-”_

Bitty knew the goddamn stats and studies. It wasn’t routine, it wasn’t common, it was totally illegal, and few people did that because between all the docs and the nurses around the mom when she gave birth, there was little chance that none of them would spill the beans, and tampering with a baby’s name was a federal offense. 

Bitty knew of them because when he realised he was gay and yet, he had a girl’s name on his wrist, he thought that maybe that was what happened to him. That his parents had hidden his name and then gotten a random girl name tattooed, and he’d spend his adult life chasing after this non-existing girl while his actual soulmate would be somewhere, waiting for him.

So, he wasn’t proud of himself for what he had done, but he needed to know. Mary Rose’s name had reappeared, still as black and strong as before, and he had barely even scarred.

Of course, two weeks later, he met Mary Rose Grace, who had Eric Richard Bittle’s name on her wrist. They were just a pair of unlucky fuckers.

Bitty said nothing and just kept eating his food. He wouldn’t grace Shitty with a response.

Who was he to say that his parents would have been the kind of parents that’d have covered his name, had it been a boy’s name?

Bitty was certain Mama and Coach wouldn’t have done something as vile. Probably. Maybe.

The thing is, Bitty wasn’t feeling great these days. There was that. There was the loss of the last game, because Bitty got checked and froze once again, despite his checking clinics. There was Mary Rose who had e-mailed him and he needed to reply soon. There was his homework piling up and there was the fact that well, Shitty was maybe a piece of work sometimes but he was his friend and he and Jack would soon graduate and leave to better places and Bitty wasn’t ready for any of that.

So now Bitty was on the roof, in the cold, at night, and he wan0ted to cry. And of course, that’s when the window of Jack’s room opened, and Jack’s head came out.

“You okay?” Jack asked him.

“All rainbows and sunshine,” Bitty replied.

Jack’s head went back inside.

What a thoughtless prick. Bitty’s crush on him was dead.

Jack’s head came back out, followed by his body, and his huge blanket.

Oops, crush was back and worse.

“Here,” he said, putting the heavy blanket around Bitty’s shoulders. “It’s my weighted blanket.”

Bitty had no idea of what a weighted blanket was for, except maybe to crush someone and trap them forever, because it was _so_, _so _comfortable and safe. He took a quick look at Jack; he was wearing his night clothes – a T-shirt, and sweatpants, and was barefoot, and he sat next to Bitty as if he didn’t care about the cold in any way. He probably didn’t. They sat in silence, for a while; both looking at the sky, trying to see one star or another. There weren’t many.

“Shitty is a piece of work, isn’t he?” Jack asked.

“Yeah,” Bitty conceded.

“A bit of a piece of shit too, sometimes.”

Bitty tried to kick Jack from under the blanket for that.

“Hey! He’s your best friend!” he laughed.

“He’s still a bit of piece of shit who never knows when to shut up, he didn’t get that name from nowhere,” Jack smiled. “If you knew how many times I asked him to shut his goyish mouth… Seriously, don’t be scared to tell him to shut up. Or kick me under the table and _I’ll_ tell him to shut up.”

“Yeah, ok. I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Of course, you’re also free to tell Ransom, Holster or Lardo to shut up when they go too far. Don’t you even dare say that to me though, I’m your captain.”

“Oh really? Captain, _shut up._”

Jack pushed Bitty with his shoulder at the offense, but the two of them where chuckling. The heavy blanket had slipped away from Bitty’s back, but he didn’t so much mind the cool wind, he realised.

The two boys went back to staring at the sky in silence, this time far less tense than before. Jack had scooted closer to Bitty. And Bitty felt stupid to even try to convince himself for one second that he wasn’t totally head over heels for this boy.

He wished, as he looked at the moon, oh, he wished so hard that he were born with a small _Jack Laurent Zimmermann _in scrawny cursive on the inside of his wrist; that Jack would have woken up, a morning of May when he was four, and he’d have run to his parents’ room to show them the letters that had appeared during the night. He wished that the universe decided Jack and he were soulmates, because it was so easy, so right, loving him, even from afar.

He wished his parents had bribed the doctor to cover his name, he wished he were soulmateless, he wished he were born without his left hand. He wished he had never read the name on his wrist, so that he would have had the right to hope, to try and to explore, and to find, by himself, who on Earth would be his soulmate, who he wanted to marry and to have kids with.

He wished Mary Rose was never born.

Because she wasn’t anyone to him.

Jack now had his elbows on his thighs, and was leaning forward with his head in his hands. He was not wearing his wristband. He probably really was about to go to bed before coming out to comfort Bitty.

“I really do not have a soulmate,” Bitty blurted out.

Because. Because yes.

The universe, the Bittles and the Phelps and the Graces be damned.

Mary Rose wasn’t the person that would make him whole. It would just destroy him to be with her. Bitty didn’t have a soulmate, and tomorrow he’ll begin to save money to go to the nearest shady tattoo parlour to get those letters covered by something that actually meant something to him.

Maybe Jack wouldn’t be the guy that would be the One. Probably not. But Bitty wanted to be able to make mistakes and have his heart broken a few times.

Jack looked at Bitty, a bit surprised. And then, smiling, he turned back to the sky.

“Neither do I.”

Bitty didn’t tell him that, from the corner of his eye, he could read “Pierre Garand” on his wrist. It didn’t matter anyway.


	9. Halo

Jack signed in Providence, forty minutes away, and Bitty didn’t know if he hated or loved this. He just knew he felt. Things. A lot of things he’d rather stop feeling. And Jack was taking it upon himself to bring Bitty hot tea in his room every night, because he was determined to find one blend that Bitty would love as much as the “weird things he calls coffee”.

Soon enough he would leave, and Shitty would leave too, and Lardo would live in the Haus but it would be her last year in Samwell, her and Ransom and Holster, and Bitty had never been so close to graduating himself, and to having to go back to Georgia for the beginning of the rest of his life.

He didn’t want to think about any of this, so instead, Bitty baked. Cookies, pies, edibles, exotic fruits, jams, jams, jams.

* * *

**Mary Rose, Eric**

> I’m not gonna lie. I don’t want this school year to end.  
> My best friends in the sorority are graduating.

>> Same here.  
>> They’ll stay near, but it won’t be the same.

> Yes. It’s just, sad, you know? When someone you took for granted as a constant in your life is leaving.

* * *

Bitty’s first kiss was romantic. Jack running across campus to see him one last time before they left for summer (before Jack left forever), in Chowder’s new room with _Halo _playing from his phone.

It came when it came, and it was perfect when it did.

Bitty had never felt so happy, so whole, so complete before this moment, as if he had found a missing piece that would enhance his life.


	10. Ferme les yeux

“So. We need to talk,” Bitty said, as he parked the car on the side of the lost little rural road.

The landscape was amazing, near a small lake and a tiny forest, and there was no one around for miles and miles. One of Bitty’s favourite places in the world, where he went in his mind when he wanted to daydream about kissing boys.

But Bitty wasn’t happy at all, and he hadn’t stopped to kiss a boy.

“Yeah. We should,” Jack replied.

Bitty gulped.

“I. I lied. I have a soulmate.”

Bitty knew he should have told Jack sooner. Before he took the plane, before he bought the tickets, before he decided to come down, before they got together, before, before. But he couldn’t. He was too deep in the lie, in the comfort of freedom, that now all he risked was to scare Jack away – Jack, who didn’t care about the stars, and who decided to kiss _him_ for _himself_.

“Okay,” Jack said, and he put his hand on Bitty’s knee.

Bitty was going to cry. Jack had no rights being so nice and understanding and to wait for an explanation when Bitty _lied _to him about something so _important_.

“I have a soulmate, who is in my life.”

“Okay.”

“That’s all you have to say?” Bitty asked, with a small voice, because if he spoke any louder he’ll break into tears.

“Bits. There’s a story here. Explain to me.”

And Bitty cried, and he did. And Jack listened, and he was holding him close while doing so.

Was that love? That was love. Bitty loved this man so much and he _knew, _dip in his guts, that Jack loved him back.

The name on his wrist didn’t seem so scary after all. And the name on Jack’s wrist didn’t either; because – because soulmates or not, Bitty knew that he was right at home in his dad’s old truck in the middle of a tiny countryside road with Jack’s arms around him and his arms around Jack.

“You feel better?” Jack asked, when Bitty had calmed down.

“Hmm,” Bitty nodded, and he took the tissue that Jack handed him – he didn’t even check if it was clean and didn’t really care, to be honest.

“Bittle… Bitty. I…” Jack said, rubbing his thumb on the back of Bitty’s hand. “That’s okay. And… Wow. A girl’s name. I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Sorry. I don’t want to scare you off, Jack. I - I care about you, really. I – it’s scary, maybe, so early, so much, but I really do. I… I know. That I have a soulmate, and this is _wrong, _but-”

“Bitty. You do not have a soulmate. You’ve got a name on your wrist, and you do what you want with it. And - I do to. I really care about you. Bitty, I- I love you.”

Oh. Oh wow.

That was early.

Bitty pressed his hand more into Jack’s. He gulped down, and with his other hand he wiped away the last tears he had, and he said:

“I love you Jack.”

Jack broke into a grin. And then, his face fell, and he looked away.

“Bitty. I, uh – I have a name, too.”

On this, Jack took off his wristband. The letters on his left wrist spelled, even more clearly than the glance that Bitty got to have back in March, “Pierre Garand”, in a nice cursive and solid black.

Not grey. He was still alive.

“I hope _I_ am not scaring you off,” Jack defused.

“I, uhm. Knew.”

“You knew I had a name?”

“I saw it. On the roof. When I told you I _didn’t_ have a soulmate. I read it and it was a boy’s name and you told me you didn’t have a soulmate, so – so I thought you were straight and that’s why you didn’t consider the guy your soulmate, after all. Or maybe that it was grey, it was really dark after all.”

“Oh. No. It’s just… Well. I guess I have a soulmate, and he is in my life, but – he’s a guy working with my mom.”

“_Working_ with your _mom?_”

“An actor. He’s more than twenty years older than me. He must have freaked out – thought for more than two decades that he was nameless, got married and all – when one morning he wakes up and there’s my name on his wrist. My mom worked with him a few years later, and on set she was told his real name, not his stage name, so she told him; “_Hey! That’s fun! My kid has this name on his wrist”_ because well, it _is _a common name and surname. And the guy was so much older than me so she didn’t think about it. But, surprise, he was actually my soulmate.”

“Oh, wow,” Bitty said, not knowing how to feel exactly.

“He’s like, I suppose – my mentor, my godfather. There’s no weirdness, because he’s so much older, and he’s straight, but. I didn’t talk to him much when I was a teen, but he helped out a lot after rehab. It helped that he wasn’t someone from the hockey world, at all. And I’m – I’m the godfather of his youngest kid, and he’s a great guy to be around. It’s just – he’s not – we – it’s hard.”

Bitty put his hand on his knee, to remind him he was here.

“What is?”

“I…” Jack sighed. “It’s hard. To grow up in a society telling you to marry your soulmate, when you know that’s never going to happen to you. And I was a dumb teen and _of course _I had a crush on him -or at least I guess I had- and _of course_ he absolutely didn’t care about me that way, and it’s hard being an autistic kid with anxiety who is discovering his sexuality and who feels unwanted and unloved by the person who _should_ be your other half. I got over it, and realised that we didn’t love each other – not like that, not something romantic and sexual, and he had a wife and kids so I wasn’t his most important relationship, and – and I went to college and realised that I also had more important relationships than the one I had with him, and that was okay. But it’s still complicated. No one can know, or else he’ll be accused of the _worst_. And I don’t know if I consider him my soulmate, because, well – our relationship is so different than anyone else’s. We’re not together, but at the same time we don’t have this connection that Lardo has with Darren, and… We know each other. He’s not a weird concept far away. And I care for him. It’s weird.”

“Does it work for you?” Bitty asked.

“I guess. Kinda. It works more than it doesn’t work, I suppose.”

“Then it’s not so bad if it’s weird, is it?”

Jack laughed at that.

“I guess.”

He then took a more sombre tone, and slowly, weighting every word, he asked:

“And… You? And Mary Rose? Does it work more than it doesn’t work?”

“It just doesn’t work.”

“Oh. Wow. Ok. And will I-”

“She’s not here right now,” Bitty said, knowing already what the question would be. “She’s visiting family for the Fourth.”

“Good,” Jack just said.

Besides the fact that Mama was vexed that Jack would rather eat the vegetarian meals that Bitty was cooking for himself than the tasty, expensive meat that she had splurged on (“Mama, I told you not to cook the meat in _butter_, Jack can’t eat it now”) and that he wouldn’t go to church with them, she loved him. Coach loved him. Moomaw loved him. Cousin Eric and Aunt Judy loved him, and so did all the other Uncles and Aunts and the younger cousins, and Bitty felt awful that “Best Friend from College Jack” was such a hit, all while they had to sneak around to even hold hands.

They managed to hold hands though. And kiss and stuff. So not everything was good for the trash.

Even if the fact that, two days before Jack arrived, it had been voted that same-sex marriage was now legal in the entire territory of the United States. At least, Moomaw and everyone would rest assured – in their dear Georgia, marriage was still a soulmates-only affair. Even if it had been up to discussion to take the _oh so very_ liberal decision to let soulmateless people and widowers marry too.

Bitty couldn’t wait to graduate, come out and be shunned out of this family sometimes.

He spent a week at Jack’s in Providence before he had to go to Samwell, just the two of them, and it was pure bliss and happiness. He wished it could be like this every day.

* * *

**Morons Party**

_Ransom_  
> [Video; Holster is driving and singing, very loud and very bad.]  
> Hide yo ass we’re on our way to Samwell

_Lardo  
_> when are you arriving bros

_Ransom  
_> Tonight 🤙🏿

_Lardo_  
> oh great I’ll probably come this afternoon then  
> Bits when do your mom drop you off

_Bitty  
_>> oh I took the plane

_Shitty  
_> you took? You already there bro?

_Bitty_  
>> oh, well, kinda?  
>> I looked for the cheaper options in the area and it was a flight that arrived this morning in PVD? Jack picked me up, he drops me at the Haus tomorrow

_Lardo  
_> what you’re in PVD and were not

_Ransom_  
> YOU DINT TELL US  
> TRAITOR  
> @Jack answer why is he here and not us

_Jack  
_> because I invited him and not you

_Shitty_  
> no problem we’re inviting ourselves  
> everyone @Jackie’s tonight

_Bitty  
_>> Good God you’re lucky I miss yall

* * *

The Frogs couldn’t be anything but Frogs, so the new Frogs were the Tadpoles. There were eight of them, but the ones that Bitty knew the most (because they were always hanging out at the Haus) were Tango and Whiskey.

Okay, you know what, scratch that. Bitty knew shit about Whiskey because the guy wasn’t talking to him. Was barely talking at all.

Tango on the other hand…

Tango was talking a _lot_, let’s say that.

And somehow, they seemed to be the best friends in the entire world.

Sometimes, when Bitty saw Tango talking and talking and talking to Whiskey, who didn’t reply but sometimes asked two-word spot-on questions -proving that he was listening attentively- he wondered if Jack and he looked just like that to strangers.

* * *

Staying hidden wasn’t ideal, but it was the safest option. Bitty could say otherwise, but he wasn’t _actually_ ready to graduate, come out and be shunned out of his family.

Jack wasn’t ready to be the first openly queer player of the NHL. The Falcs were great, but he wasn’t even ready to be out to _them_ yet. To explain to them how out-of-the-norm his relationship was. To trust them to keep it on the downlow.

They didn’t say anything to anyone, for a while, until it was too much to bear for Bitty and he called Jack, crying.

They came out to their friends, after that.

“We don’t have soulmates, but we have each other.”

It wasn’t even a _lie_. Their friends were so happy for them.

* * *

**Jack, Bitty**

> Miss you

>> Miss you too sweetpea  
>> Can’t wait you’re back from your roadie ❤️❤️

> We’re landing in Boston, I’m driving to Samwell right away

**Mary Rose, Eric**

> It’s been long since we had a phone call.

>> Sorry, busy.

> You didn’t even come home for thanksgiving?

>> We only had two days, I couldn’t really come all the way to Georgia

> I know  
> But? I miss you, Eric

>> I’m sorry


	11. Que l'amour est violent

Jack got the A, the Falconers were winning and winning and would very probably be securing their spot in the playoffs.

They came out to Jack’s parents, who were great, and Bitty was a bit jealous, to be honest. Jack mentioned Bitty to Pierre Garand. Pierre Garand was really excited for Jack, and wanted to meet Bitty sometime. Once again, Bitty was a bit jealous.

Jack had a streak of home games on a weekend, and his parents had invited themselves over. Bitty would meet them, for the first time. Well, for the first time as the boyfriend. He was stressed. He baked enough to fill Jack’s entire fridge, and then some more. Jack finally had enough and hid what was left of flour and eggs on the top shelves so that Bitty couldn’t access them. _He just didn’t understand the stress Bitty was living through right now. _

The Zimmermanns were great, though – they hugged him to say hello, as if they knew each other for years, and they ate more than their share of pie and cookies. They went with Bitty to the arena to watch the game (them in the family section, Bitty in very good public seats), stayed the night at Jack’s in the guest room, and all was going so smoothly that Bitty forgot to worry.

He was reminded about why he was so anxious about this weekend when he was enjoying his Saturday with Alicia and Bob in the kitchen, showing them his apple jam recipe, and the doorbell rang. As always when there was someone at the door when he was at Jack’s, Bitty made himself small and silent. Alicia frowned at that, and then she made a sad face. Ah, Bitty hated that.

Jack napping, it’s Bob who went to the door to open. From the kitchen, Bitty could hear him beam:

“Pierre! Elsa! Allo ça va bien? Rentrez, rentrez… Jack est en train de dormir…”

Yeah that’s exactly at this moment that Bitty remembered that, today, he was meeting his boyfriend’s soulmate. Kinda.

He didn’t move and stayed small and silent in the kitchen because he was _this_ close to panic.

Nope. Nope nope nope he wasn’t ready, no rom-com, no series, _nothing_ prepared him for this what was he supposed to do what was he supposed to say what if _his boyfriend’s soulmate but not really_ didn’t like him what would happen then would Jack have to chose would Jack even chose_ him_ what would

“Come on Eric, let’s greet them,” Alicia said, unaware of the internal warfare that was currently happening in Bitty’s head, but she grabbed his wrist and led him to the living-room where Robert was walking with Pierre and his wife.

Nope.

He seemed so nice and he smiled at Bitty when he saw him.

“Hello! You must be Bitty – Jack told me all about you.”

“Hi. Hello. Good afternoon. Bitty. I am he.” _Fuck._

“Haha,” Pierre laughed, because Bitty was a cretin, “nice to meet you. I’m Pierre,” he added, shaking Bitty’s hand.

He was a fine-looking guy, probably only a few years younger than Jack’s parents. Tall, with salt and pepper hair, a nice smile and a peaceful face – yeah, okay, Bitty kinda understood that teenage Jack used to have a crush on him.

Bitty had seen one or two movies he was in, after he talked with Jack about him. Sadly the guy only starred in French and French Canadian movies, and it was ridiculously hard to find subtitles, so Bitty quickly gave up. He was way younger in the movies Bitty saw.

Pierre was here with his wife, Elsa, who seemed happy to meet Bitty too, and while they were introducing each other Jack finally decided to get up from his nap. He was still in his pyjamas, shorts too big and a T-shirt too small and definitely wasn’t awake enough if the way he was scratching his face was any indication.

“Allo,” he groaned.

“Allo Jack,” Pierre smiled. “Ça va bien?”

“Urgh.”

He hugged Elsa, kissed Pierre on the cheek and hugged him too, before walking to the kitchen to drink some coffee waiting for him in the pot.

“There’s coffee and pie everywhere, just serve yourselves, you’re at home here. The kids aren’t here?”

“Oh, no,” Pierre replied, joining him. “They’re at their mom’s for the weekend, and since Léa is in college she only comes back when she needs someone to do the laundry for her…”

Honestly, Bitty expected to feel more jealous than this. But this night, after the game, when Elsa and Pierre came back to the apartment with them to drink one last coffee before they went back to the hotel, and Jack was next to him on the couch with his hand on his knee and he was talking about how well Samwell was doing this season and was telling everyone to come see one of their games after the break, well, Bitty realised that he had no reason to be.

* * *

“You know, I was a big fan of one of your movies growing up,” he told Alicia. “The one with the woman working in an office and she wants to date a coworker but she meets her soulmate.”

The guests had left and Bob and Jack had gone to bed already, so the two of them were enjoying the last not-too cold night of the year on the balcony, under blankets.

“It was so bad,” Alicia laughed. “My first lead role, though. But we had no budget and really, it was just a glorified Hallmark movie.”

“I still loved it. I’m weak for romcoms. But… I hated it, when I grew up.”

“Why's that?”

“She ended up with her soulmate. Because that’s what true love is. What she felt for her coworker was nothing. And… That was about the time I realised I would never love my soulmate, myself.”

Alicia stilled at that. Bitty could guess her eyes were dragging towards his wrist, where they only could meet a wristband.

“You’ve got…?” 

“... She’s a girl. She’s nice enough, I guess. But she’s a girl. And I don’t love her. And this movie, and hundreds of movies just like this one - where the soulmate wins and is the only true love, the only love that matters - it hurt. So much.”

Alicia didn’t say anything, for a while.

“You know… I began to hate this movie too, once we met Pierre, when Jack began to grow up. I always said that if there was one movie I should remake differently, it’s this one. Maybe I will. If I direct, and produce it - I could make something that matters out of it. Don’t you think?”

“I think even only one movie can make a difference to someone who needs it.”

* * *

With the results the Falcs had, the fact that Jack’s place as an alternative captain had been voted by the other players and thus, the proof that they _trusted_ him, well.. Jack began to realise that his spot in the team wasn’t a mistake. That it wasn’t put in jeopardy because of a bad game or a bad day. That the guys and the staff cared about him, for more than his stats.

So, with Bitty’s support, he decided to come out to George. George was the glue of the team. George was open-minded and George cared.

So he could do this.

He joined her for her morning jog, he gathered his courage, and he told her.

“I’m dating a teammate.”

“_What?_”

What, _what?_

Oh, shit-

“Oh, no, no!” Jack cut Georgia off, before she panics here and there. “Not a Falconer! A teammate from college!”

“Oh my _God_, Jack, do you want me to have a heart attack?”

“No, no- Boy, you’ve _met_ the Falcs, George, you know, I have _standards_…”

George chuckled at that. Yeah. That was cool, at least.

“Ok so. Wow. You’re soulmates with a college teammate. That’s… _Wow_. And it’s not a platonic pair? You’re romantically involved? That’s great.”

“Well hmm. We’re not soulmates.”

“You’re not soulmates. Just… Two bros, being dudes, with no soulmates, but still falling in love with each other against all odds.”

“We both have other soulmates.”

“Jack.”

“Soulmates that we know.”

“Jack I’m really trying here.”

“Sorry.”

George stopped jogging, rather switching to walking to be able to focus more on her words and on Jack. Jack wasn’t sure he wanted her to do that.

“Listen, Jack. I. I’m shocked, to say the least. That’s. Wow. A non-soulmate pair is already hard to be accepted in today’s society. But a same-sex one, in sports world? That’s…”

“Career suicide.”

“Yeah. I mean- You know, there are players in the NHL paired with men – publicly, there’s two D-men pairs, and in Seattle two second-liners, and two or three third-liners that openly have soulmate bonds with non-playing men, but-”

“But none of them are romantically involved. Officially, at least. They all have wives and girlfriends and are platonic soulmates.”

“Yes. And that’s hard enough for them like that. But there are guys who are also openly not married or together with their woman soulmate, but are with another woman instead, and they all get a bad rep about it.”

“And Bittle and I are definitely not soulmates, and we are _absolutely_ _not_ platonic.”

“Jack. No offense, but I think you pissed off your DM when you were working on your character sheet.”

“Yeah, all the hardships are a revenge from him because the incredible stats I rolled pissed him off.”

She laughed. All was good, then.

“Tell me more about him- he’s the one baking all those sinful pies you’re always bringing?”

* * *

Bitty went back home the day after Christmas. He invented something about a group project, or volunteering, or the team – he wasn’t sure himself, he must have told five different stories by then. Mama wasn’t buying it, she didn’t come down in the last shower but what could she have said? Bitty had backed up his need to go back home with the fact that Jack had also invited him and the guys for a meet-the-family snippet for Falcs TV.

“We barely see you anymore,” Mama had said, when she had dropped him at the airport on Boxing Day.

“I know.”

“Well. It’s only for one more year and a half,” she added, patting his cheek. “Take care.”

Mary Rose spent Christmas with her family in Colorado or something, and he really wanted to avoid her. Ransom had invited him over when Bitty had told him about how inadequate he was feeling in Georgia, and Bitty was more than happy to come – Ransom had a huge family, in Canada, America and in Nigeria, and there was still a lot of celebrations and feasts during the whole period between Christmas and New Year. Bitty spent a few days in Toronto, two days with Ransom at Holster’s in Buffalo, and they were back at the Haus in time for New Year's for a Kegster that Bitty wasn’t ready for, and he spent the rest of the break (at least, once the hangover wore off) between the Haus and Providence. He really did make it to the meet-the-family snippet, along with Shitty, Lardo, Ransom and Holster, so he had a video to send his mom so maybe she wouldn’t be too angry at him.

He met the Falconers – as the secret soulmate.

He and Jack and George talked a lot about it, and they reached the conclusion that it was the easiest solution. Pierre was on board – it’s not like his and Jack’s bond could ever be known, their age gap was too big, he would be accused of the worst because he knew Jack since he was a toddler. As far as their friends knew, Bitty didn’t have a soulmate, and only Shitty knew about Pierre being Jack’s so Jack could pass as mateless too. Jack’s dad didn’t know about Mary Rose either – and, to be honest, Bitty would rather George also didn’t know about her, but turns out she was great and supportive about the whole thing.

“You know Eric,” she told him the first time she met him at Jack’s to talk about the situation, “My husband and I know how wrong soulmarks can be.”

It was a well-known fact that George, when she was still playing in the Women’s League, married her co-captain – and a few months after they got married, in their last year before they both retired, he came out as a trans man.

“It’s fucked up,” she explained. “Society as a whole is more tolerant than the _mysterious force that determines who should be your missing_ _half_ , **and** the laws around it. Eliott still got to play with us, as long as he waited until retirement to begin hormones, he managed to get a name change and new papers and passport without _too much_ hassle. It was a weird time for us as a couple, we didn’t know if we could last or not – but still. On my wrist, his deadname was not changing. So there’s a magic that decides that two people are meant to be, but that magic refuses to update according to life and identity changes? Bullshit. If it can be wrong about my husband’s name, then it can be wrong about some pairs it makes.”

“And… was it easy to change it?” Bitty asked, glancing at her wrist that was now not displaying her husband’s deadname anymore.

“Oh, boy. Touching soulmarks is a federal crime. Good luck to find someone that could legally cover your name in the States, and we didn’t have much choice but go through legal ways because we were publicly paired, and it would be a change people notice. Somehow, it’s only in three States, California, New York and for some reason Montana that you can cover and re-tattoo a name if your soulmate has a legal name change. It still was _so_ expensive and we got the authorisations after nine months of court audiences. I fucking _birthed_ this tattoo, let me tell you,” she says, touching the nice cursive ‘Eliott’ on her wrist.

“Yeah. I feel you, kinda – in Georgia, you still can’t marry someone who’s not your soulmate. I mean – at least in most places around, like Tennessee and Texas I think, mateless people have the right to marry other mateless people, sometimes widowers can too. But in Georgia? Nah. Only soulmates.”

“Aren’t there a few States where people with soulmates can marry who they want only if they have their soulmate’s approval?” Jack chimed in. “That was how it worked until not that long ago in a lot of Canadian provinces, and still in one or two I think.”

“Gosh, this is fucked up.”

“Kinda yeah.”

“Life would be easier without soulmates.”

“Yes. Yes, it would.”

* * *

“My mom told me the other day my aunt covered my cousin’s name,” Dex said one day, while he was baking with Bitty. “A girl name appeared when my cousin wasn’t even one, so my aunt and my uncle found someone to get it covered.”

“Oh goodness- it’s awful.”

“She told me that matter-of-factly. As if it was nothing.”

Bitty understood what Dex meant.

“Do you think your parents could have…?”

“I mean… Haven’t you ever thought it too? You’re mateless, and you grew up realising you were gay – I think it crossed the mind of every mateless person on this Earth, even more queer ones, ‘hey, maybe my parents altered my mark and there’s someone out there with my name on their wrist’. Wasn’t that a few months ago, you know, that hit the news, there was a guy who got his mark altered when it appeared when he was a baby and his soulmate still found him?”

“Stories like this happen every year,” Bitty said.

“Yes. So it’s normal to think that maybe, you could be one of those stories, don’t you think? I mean. I thought that when I realised that I was gay, for a second, but- since then, I've made peace with the fact that I'm soulmateless. Like, it’s okay, it happens, I can still be happy, my parents would never do something that gross- but now that my mom told me that, I can’t stop thinking about it. Maybe they did it, after all. She didn’t even realise how gross and grave it was when she was telling me that.”

Dex sighed.

“I’m sorry. I’m rambling. It’s just… I had reached a good point. And it threw me off all over again.”

“Dex. I’m going to tell you something, okay? And you’ll probably think ‘it’s easier said than done’, but believe me, it took me decades to be able to say it: Dex, do not. Give. _A shit_. Whether you were born with a name or not, whatever the name could be. You’re you and you do you. Someone having your name on their wrist, you having their name, doesn’t mean anything, except that you have each other's names on your wrists. You’re the one defining what it means. You could be paired with someone you don’t care about, with someone who is toxic and bad for you. Someone’s soulmate could be out there, somewhere, but they wouldn’t know because they let the name on their wrist decide for them. You don’t need that to love someone, okay? Let your brain and your heart decide, not your hand and society. Okay?”

“Mmh.”

“_Okay?”_

“Yeah, yeah, okay mom.”

“Good boy,” Bitty joked, patting his cheek. “Now - those apples won’t peel themselves.”

* * *

He had Mama on the phone, once again, and he cried after, once again.

* * *

‘A life without soulmates’ sounded like a dream, to Bitty some days.

The Falconers were great. Bitty mostly saw Marty, Thirdy, and Tater, and they were Jack’s best buddies, but the others were nice with him and cool to see whenever Bitty came to see a game. One of the rookies, Poots, had even proposed that all the Falcs should go to one of Samwell's games to cheer Bitty and Jack’s other old teammates – no need to say, Jack didn’t deem it important to warn Bitty who was quite surprised to see, in the stand, fifteen Falconers trying to be discreet with sunglasses and caps. The rest of SMH wasn’t ready either and the locker room, where the Falconers joined them after the game, was a _mess_.

It was easy. Bitty loved this life.

He loved having accepting teammates, he loved that Jack had too, he loved living with his friends, he loved cooking brunch on Sunday mornings and timing it so that it would be ready exactly when Dex, Tango and Whiskey would be back from church on weeks they went, he loved late night discussions and debates with Holster and Ransom in the bus during roadies, and with Lardo also some nights in the attic, he loved listening to Nursey on open mic slam nights at Annie’s, he loved to bake, to teach whoever was interested how to bake, he loved sending daily selfies to Jack and receive heart emojis or heart-eyed pictures back, he loved spending the night in Providence or having Jack over and having to squeeze into a tiny bed, he loved loving Jack and he loved being loved.

Life was great and he never had been this happy.

* * *

**Moomaw, Eric**

> Miss Fosset from church asked me if I could do a pie for her vegan granddaughter’s birthday next week  
> What do you use instead of lard in the crust

>> wait I have a recipe I send it as soon as I’m home  
>> [Picture; an handwritten card titled “Vegan Mini Fruit Pies” with an ingredient list and non-detailed steps]  
>> I usually do an assortment of them as mini-pies so people have the choice  
>> They’re a hit, even for non-vegans

> Wait, no eggs and no butter

>> You said vegan

> Isn’t that what you are. You still eat eggs and milk

>> Vegetarian. I’m vegetarian Moomaw

> it’s too complicated. No eggs, not butter, it’s not even a pie anymore

>> It’ really not that complicated. A bit of a challenge when you’re not used to it maybe, but not complicated  
>> Please make the effort

> it can’t be good

>> It’s not because it’s not what you’re used to that it’s bad

> I can try  
> do you think I can adapt my blue ribbon apple pie recipe

>> I tried and it was gross lol  
>> But if you want we can skype tonight and try something together?

> Maybe, if your uncle doesn’t come too late  
> Your Peepaw says hello

>> Hello peepaw!!


	12. Silhouette

There was a cute girl with nice light brown curls, a huge suitcase and a bigger winter coat sitting on the stairs of the Haus when Lardo came back from the studio.

“Hello?” she asked more than said.

“Oh. Hi. I tried to ring and knock, but no one came to the door,” the girl replied. “I think no one is here.”

“Oh, yes, probably,” Lardo began, as she walked towards the door. “The doorbell got destroyed during the last party. You’re looking for someone?”

“I’ve been told it was the hockey house.”

“Yeah, it is.”

Lardo had now opened the door with her key, and turned towards the girl:

“Mmh, want to go inside? It’ll be warmer.”

“Oh, yes, yes.”

Lardo, still a bit lost, let the girl put her suitcase in the entrance and drop her coat wherever, before they both went to the kitchen (where, sadly, no pies or cookies were cooling).

“I’m Mary Rose,” the girl said with a satisfied smile, as she sat at the kitchen table. And, when there was no reaction from Lardo; “I’ve travelled non-stop since I woke up. Do you have coffee?”

Well, no. But with _this_ tone, even Lardo felt the urge to comply and to prepare this girl a whole pot of coffee and maybe even bake her some cookies (and Lardo didn’t even know how to make instant ramen).

She started the coffee machine, and she told the girl:

“Mmh, it’s an old thing. It won’t be ready for another ten minutes. Sorry.”

“All right. I’m going to drop my suitcase in Eric’s room. Which is it?”

_Eric_? Oh, she probably was one of the 50 cousins he had. Absentmindedly, Lardo gave her the directions as she was looking in the fridge for any pie that would miraculously have survived since the day before.

The girl left the room and made her way upstairs-

And Lardo heard screaming.

And running.

And not even ten seconds later, the girl was back downstairs, in the hallway, sobbing and all in all in hysterics, and Bitty and Jack were running right behind her, half-naked and dishevelled.

“Is that a joke Eric? Am I a joke to you?” the girl was yelling.

“Holy _heck_, Mary Rose, what the hell are you doing here?”

“What am _I_ doing here? Are you kidding me? I should be asking what _you_ are doing! I can’t believe-”

“You _can’t_ believe? Please, it’s definitely not as if it was _surprising-_”

“Yes? Yes it is! You’re a liar and a cheater and an absolute piece of _shit-_”

“A cheater? There isn’t _anything_ to cheat on, Mary Rose-”

“What the fuck is happening?” Lardo cut them off, yelling.

The girl turned towards her, and sniffed before saying:

“What the _fuck_ is happening? I come to surprise my soulmate for the weekend and I find him in bed- uhm. Uhm. _Sleeping_ with another _man!_”

“Soul- Bitty? But Bitty doesn’t have a soulmate?”

“Oh? That’s what you tell everyone Eric? That you don’t have a soulmate so you can screw all the guys-”

“Mary Rose shut your pie hole! You have _no fucking idea_ of who I am and what I do-”

“Yes. Yes, indeed. I don’t,” Mary Rose spat, cold and detached. “Because you _lied_ to me for a _freaking_ _decade_. You knew, right? You knew you were gay. But you never told me. When did you plan to do it? After college? The day before our wedding? _Never? _You’d have made me live a lie all of my life? Fuck, I should have known. All my friends told me you were cheating and they were right. You did all you could to postpone the wedding, you fucked off to school at the other side of the country, you wouldn’t even kiss me. You made me lose so much time for _nothing_._”_

“I didn’t owe you to come out. I don’t owe you _shit_, actually. _I_ never promised you anything. Everyone around us decided for us that we were meant to be together and to get married and have kids. You decided that you wanted to be a stay-at-home mom in the suburbs of Atlanta while I work 50 hours a week to provide for the family, and everyone decided that we would be the happiest people on the planet by doing that because for some reason we have each other’s names written on our wrists. _I_ don’t want that. I never wanted that, but no one knew because no one _fucking_ asked. I don’t love you, you don’t love me. We would never have worked and you had no reason to ever believe otherwise. And – yes, yes, I’m gay, and no I didn’t tell anyone, because you freaking _know_ my family and you _know _the pastor and your _know_ the rumours and the entire freaking _town_. You _know_ I can’t come out.”

“You still should have told ME! Instead of making me believe that we had a future together!”

“I didn’t make you believe SHIT! Y’all decided that for me!”

“You can’t blame me to assume that we would end up like every single soulmate pair on this face of the planet, Eric!”

“You shouldn’t assume that a guy who doesn’t even want to hold your hand wants to marry you!”

“I put everything on hold and refused any experience because I was waiting for you! I declined dates, I forced myself to get over crushes! I don’t even enjoy spending any time with you because of how shy and cold and distant you always are but I put up with it because we were meant to be! You stole the last ten years of my life!”

“You made mine living hell since your name appeared on my wrist when I was a baby! I hate this fucking name and I don’t care for you!”

“I don’t fucking want to see you ever again!”

“Fine! Same for me!”

“Fine!”

“Fine!” 

Mary Rose made her way towards the front door, and Bitty rushed upstairs, pushing past Jack on the way. He was crying.

Lardo was at a loss.

What the hell had just happened?

* * *

Intellectually, Jack _knew_ that it would happen, one day or another. He knew that Mary Rose existed, he saw her name often enough when he was sharing a shower with Bitty. He knew that sooner or later, _she_ would know that _he_ existed.

The timeline Bitty and him had talked about was that Bitty would come clean to his parents right after his graduation. He wasn’t ready to come out before then, couldn’t really explain why he and Mary Rose wouldn’t work and why he didn’t want to even try to keep up the appearances without explaining this part of him, and he didn’t want to come out while he was still financially dependent on them in case of the worst. And he wanted to try to broach the subject with Mary Rose this summer, before their senior year. Maybe not that he was gay – but at least, that, maybe, marriage wasn’t the best option for them, and then improvise depending on how it went from there.

None of those involved Mary Rose walking in on them, an afternoon where Jack came over because Bitty’s prof was absent. None of those involved Jack being mentioned at all, actually.

So, here he was now, still half-naked, in the stairs of the Haus with Lardo in the doorway of the kitchen looking at him with shocked eyes, his boyfriend locked up in his bedroom and his boyfriend’s soulmate somewhere, sobbing of heartbreak.

He wasn’t sure what he should be doing.

Lardo neither, and if Lardo didn’t know what to do, they were deep in shit.

“I’m gonna talk to her,” Jack said, walking to the coat rack to steal the first one he found.

“To _her_? I think you’re the last person she wants to see right now.”

“Well, she also was the last person I wanted to see five minutes ago, but we don’t always have what we want.”

“Don’t antagonise her. I’m gonna see Bits. And after that the three of us will have a _discussion_.”

* * *

Mary Rose was sitting on the stairs of the porch, a cigarette in hand.

Jack really took a look at her for the first time. Before arriving here, she had taken the time to apply make up, she made sure her hair was impeccable and her clothes, cute, even though she probably spent her morning in the airport and in planes. She looked like a mess now, with red cheeks and splotchy eyes and a runny nose.

She didn’t even turn around when she heard Jack opening and closing the front door.

He stayed here, a few seconds, before sitting on the stairs too, a few feet apart.

“I’m so fucking stupid,” she said.

“You’re not.”

“I am. Of course he was gay. Of course he didn’t give a shit about me. I should have listened to my friends.”

“He did his best to make sure no one would know. It was the safest option. He wasn’t ready to be out, yet. So he went with the flow to preserve himself.”

Mary Rose just sniffed. Jack was focused on the rock at the bottom of the stairs. He wasn’t exactly sure of what to do, what to say.

“You know… I understand you, kinda,” he finally managed to get out.

“How can you?” she snickered, because really, how can he.

“I have – I have a name, on my wrist, too. A man that I met really early in my life. And of course, when I was a teen, I grew up with everyone around me telling me that names on your wrist mean true love, people in my synagogue telling me that soulmate pairs were especially blessed, everyone saying that only romantic relationships meant anything. And this man, whose name I have on my wrist – I wished so hard we could be, you know? But he was straight. And more than twenty years older, ah.”

“_Twenty years? _But – so, when you were a baby-”

“He was already an adult. And famous. He’s an actor. So, you can guess why it’s not known, right? But, yeah. I somewhat understand, kinda, what it’s like to have to accept that you won’t have the life everyone but the soulmateless ten-ish percent of the population are supposed to have.”

“I don’t really care. I don’t think I could every forgive him for all those years.”

“I understand.”

“Stop understanding, really! Stop being nice with me just so that I won’t out you both. I won’t, okay? You’re rich, you’re famous, I’m not gonna play with fire, and I truly could do without the shame of losing my soulmate to another man right now. We were supposed to be happy together. A perfect match.”

“It’s not shameful.”

“It is. Shame_, that_, you should understand.”

She was back to UGA two days later, not being able to change her plane tickets. She refused that Jack or Bitty paid for her hotel in Boston. The only thing she told Bitty, before leaving the Haus, was to not contact her anymore.

It’s not like they spoke a lot, beforehand. They had gone from daily to weekly to sometimes-ly texts lately. He was happy to oblige.


	13. Alocao

Jack and Bitty explained the whole situation to Lardo, Shitty, Ransom and Holster a few nights after.

“Fucking hell, brah,” Shitty said. “That’s. Wow. _Wow_. Okay. One hell of a situation.”

“You don’t say,” Bitty sighed.

“Listen, Bits, Jack,” Holster added. “As long as you’re happy – and you _are_, together, we know it –, that’s all that counts, okay? Name or no name.”

“Honestly, there must have been a mistake. Because clearly, you should have had each other’s names on your wrists. You’re a perfect match.”

Bitty drank some of his beer, before he said:

“You know what? I’m happy Jack and I aren’t soulmates.”

And he was, truly.

Jack smiled at him, squeezing his knee with his hand.

They didn’t need that.

* * *

By March, Bitty had enough money to pay for his name covering.

It was totally illegal, everywhere in the States and in Canada.

Good thing for him, it wasn’t hard to motivate Ransom, Lardo and Holster to spend Spring Break in Barcelona.

Ransom was with him the first day, during the ten-minutes routine procedure of taking some of his thigh’s skin to graft it on his wrist, and he was listening more religiously than Bitty to the doctor when he was putting on the bandage and he explained how to care for it so it doesn’t scar and how it should avoid sun for a while and how he should wait a few months before tattooing anything on it.

Then the two friends went to join Holster and Lardo in the restaurant near the hotel that made tourist-trap quality paella, and they enjoyed their Spring Break like no one ever did.

Mary Rose also seemed to make most of her Spring Break, and was living her best life if her Snapchat was any indication. Her Instagram, that both her parents’ and Bitty’s could see, was way more _tame._ Good for them both.

* * *

Mama asked him his plans for summer. He said he was staying with Jack, because the Falconers were going to the playoffs anyway, and Jack proposed to have him in Providence all summer.

Mama wasn’t happy about that. She wanted to see her son, and it was a lot of time staying with a friend, especially _Jack Zimmermann_, and there was Rosie here and her little sister came over the other day to ask when Dicky would be back because she wanted to get taught hockey tricks, and-

Bitty tried, really.

He tried to tell her.

He just managed to say, _Mary Rose and I – we’re. It’s not… I’m sorry_, before he hung up. And he cried, as usual.

* * *

Bitty was voted captain, unanimously.

He made sure to thank all the guys, one by one after the dinner.

He was surprised that Whiskey voted for him – the guy really didn’t seem to like him one bit. But he just shrugged.

“You helped Dex a lot this year. He always has great things to say about you.”

Okay, whatever that means. It was not surprising that Dex and Whiskey were good friends though, they were a lot alike on some points. At least the guy was talking to more people than just Tango and Ford.

Graduation was an event, once again. Lardo, Holster and Ransom would be out, living in Boston – they were looking for a house to rent, along with Darren and Shitty; Shitty who would apparently share with Lardo, and Lardo who found a spot to work in the rival gallery of the one Darren was working in. They were delighted with the situation and really, no one understood those two.

Ford was now the new manager. She had begun to work with Lardo a few months ago now, became fast friends with Tango and Whiskey, and she was great. She had the same vision of teamwork than Bitty did, she was strong-headed and strong-willed, and Bitty wouldn’t wait to begin to work with her next year.

The Haus was totally changing. Dex and Nursey had begun to bring their stuff into Lardo’s old room, Ollie and Wicks had planned to totally renovate the attic. They were getting married this June and their registry consisted of half of Home Depot’s catalogue and a _chandelier_. (Jack and Bitty were buying them the chandelier.)

Bitty didn’t know how to feel. Next year, it would be him. He would be the one kissing the ice and packing his boxes and moving away, and he had _no idea_ of what it would be like.

Will Jack be here? All his friends? His parents? Would he be moving to Providence? Would he be able to visit Madison for the 4th of July? Would he still get to hang out with Billie, would all his family want to see him, to meet Jack?

Who knows? Not him, that’s for sure.

For now, he just knew he had to pack his suitcase, quick, because Jack was waiting for him and they were late to the restaurant that Holster and Ransom’s parents had booked to celebrate their sons’ graduation.

* * *

The Falconers made it to the playoffs.

To the Stanley Cup Finale.

To game five, six.

Seven.

And they won.

They won, and Bitty was so happy he was crying, and he ran to Jack to hug him in the middle of the ice –

And there, they decided to kiss.

They had planned to come out, some day. After Bitty’s graduation probably. Jack would have been, ‘Hey, fun story, I have a soulmate who’s a man and we’re getting married!’

Things didn’t go according to the plan, but really, neither Jack nor Bitty would have it any other way.


	14. Happy Ending

“Dicky. You’re coming home, now.”

“Mother, I-”

“_Now_.”

Bitty and Jack took a plane to Atlanta two days after the Stanley Cup. At least, with their sunglasses and their caps, they could pass for regular tourists, and they weren’t bothered all the way up until where they picked their rental car – the guy working there obviously recognised Jack’s name when he checked his licence.

Bitty kinda wished the trip had been more eventful. He’d have had something to think about that wasn’t the conversation he didn’t want to have with his parents. Not today, not ever.

“Should we get a hotel room?” Jack asked, while they were on the highway. Bitty was driving.

“You think – you think they really wouldn’t want to see me? Ever again?”

“No, bud, it’s- I don’t think they’ll shun you. But it will get tense, really, really tense. It would be better, I think. To have a place, away, to withdraw when we need to.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right,” Bitty conceded. “Don’t look at hotels around, they’re awful. Look over on Air B’n’B, there’s some nice things in the next town over…”

It’s Coach who opened the door. His face fell when he saw that his son wasn’t here alone.

“Oh. He’s here.”

“Where was he supposed to be?”

Coach didn’t reply, but didn’t look happy when he pushed aside so Bitty and Jack could enter the house.

Mama was in the living-room, sitting here with tea and her _scones_ filled with jam and the Graces. Jolene, Hank, and Mary Rose.

The air was tense. When Bitty and Jack entered, it turned icy.

“Hello, how are y’all.”

“Hello. Fine, and you.”

Bitty sat on the empty couch, gesturing Jack to sit right next to him. Mama served them tea and scones – scones that they declined immediately.

“How was your flight?”

“Good.”

“You don’t have bags?”

“In the car.”

“You sure you don’t want a scone?”

“Lard.”

Bitty wasn’t going to give anyone anything to work with. Mary Rose had her arms crossed, was looking at her mug, and wasn’t moving, wasn’t talking.

“Dicky. What is all this – what does it mean?” Mama finally asked.

“I. Mama – Jack and I. We’re – we’re together. We love each other.”

What didn’t he just say.

Hell broke loose.

“Is that a joke?”

“Did he pay you to say that?”

“We can probably easily fix this-”

“There’s no ‘we’re going to fix this’ or ‘we’re going to call the pastor’ Ma’am-”

“_Why_? _How _could you do that to us? To your_ soulmate?”_

_“_You’d rather be a dirty little secret than live the happy life that was written for you?”

“We’re together, we’re **happy**, we’re in _love_, we’re going to get married one day, to have kids-”

“Married? _You two? _I doubt that, really.”

“I am **GAY**, Mother, if it wasn’t Jack, it could be any _man_!”

“You lied to this poor Rosie for years and cheated on her!”

“_I _never agreed to marry Mary Rose. Y’all decided that and planned the entire wedding for us.”

“Who do you think you are, to decide stuff like this all by yourself?”

“I’ve never been _asked _anything about all of this-”

“Our poor Rosie hasn’t said a single word since you did your little stunt, do you know how much you’ve hurt her?”

“You’re supposed to be Bitty’s parents, how can you make him feel so inadequate in every situation?”

“This is a family matter, don’t get involved-”

“How can y’all just decide you’re in _love_ because there’s a stranger’s name on your wrist?”

“You can’t say you’re in _love_ just like that!”

**“That’s stupid, you obviously don’t know what love is-”**

“I knew it.”

Mary Rose finally spoke. She was the only one who stayed silent during the whole ordeal, who stayed sitting and stayed put when most of the others stood up during their shooting match.

Everyone went silent, and turned towards her.

“You – you knew?” her mother managed to ask.

“I knew. Eric’s friends knew. The Falconers knew, I’ve been told. I knew.”

“Sweetheart…You can stop this nonsense, you know. Legally, if you want. We can get an attorney, force the marriage…”

“I don’t care. Eric is not my soulmate. Never has been, never will be. There’s been a mistake.”

“But-”

“We are. Not. Soulmates.”

On this, Mary Rose got up and left the room.

* * *

Bitty found her on the back porch, on the bench, looking at the tree at the end of the yard. Her eyes were dim. Her expression closed.

“Hi.”

She didn’t reply.

“Thank you. I-”

“I really don’t care. I don’t want to hear you. I don’t want to hear _about_ you. I did my part, I stayed silent, now I just want to be done so we never have to think about each other ever again.”

“I’m sorry. That we weren’t paired up with people we could have worked with.”

“So am I.”

They stayed silent, for a while. They could hear the faint voices of Jolene and Mama inside. They were probably questioning Jack. Good luck, he wouldn’t say a word.

“I won’t sell you out. Your boy’s too rich, his family is too rich, his soulmate is too rich. I’m not fucking with people like that. If people in our town ask, I’ll say our parents faked our bonds. Wouldn’t be the first ones. Wouldn’t be the last.”

“Wouldn’t be wrong. They were way more into us that we had ever been.”

“That, they were.”

“I. Listen- thank you. Let me help-”

“No.”

“Let me pay to get my name covered, at least.”

“No. I don’t want _anything_ to do with you, Eric, okay?”

“Promise me to try to go do it in somewhere safe. And legal. Please.”

“I’m not promising you _shit_. But if you think I’ll put my health in jeopardy for you, you’re dead wrong.”

That’ll be enough.

“Think we could have worked? If we hadn’t been forced to be together… _Like that_?”

“We’ll never know.”

“Have a nice life, Eric.”

“Have a nice life, Mary Rose.”


	15. All of me - Epilogue

“Hi, sweetpea- When do you plan to be out of the rink?”

“…”

“You’re kidding? What do you mean, late? I have to be at work soon, my class begins at two on the dot-”

Bitty was juggling with his phone against his ear, a baby on his chest in a sling, a whiny toddler on his hip, and two huge grocery bags in hand. Opening the door, dropping the toddler on the floor (she laid there, complaining about how tired about “things” she was. You’re not even in school yet kiddo, just you wait.), picking up the mail, and bringing it all into the kitchen was a complex feat, but he really wanted to only make one trip.

He finally could put the grocery bags on the tables, so he could focus more on the phone call.

“When do you think you can be out?”

“…”

“You know what, I’m at the cooking school at half past one, the easiest thing would be for you to go there when you’re out of work, you wait for me and you get Helena and Louis when I arrive. She slept all morning, she’s going to be a handful this afternoon, just tellin’ you,” Bitty warned, going through the mail.

“…”

“Haha. Got your mom on the phone this morning. Oh, and I got an email from mine, I should try to reply sometime this week.” Bill, bill, postcard. Unmarked envelope.

“…”

Bitty felt his shirt being pulled, and he turned to see his daughter standing there, and trying to get his attention.

“Papa?” she asked, looking at the phone.

“Weren’t you too tired to move not even one minute ago, honey?” Bitty asked, away from the phone.

Helena seemed to have newfound energy, because she made grabby hands and asked for the phone, pretty please.

Bitty gave it to her and let her rant to her papa about what happened in the Miraculous Ladybug episode she saw this morning, and how they should go skate this afternoon (and your tiredness kiddo, really?), while he opened the letter.

He recognised the handwriting immediately, and his heart clutched.

_Hi, Eric._

_I heard you’re a dad now. Congratulations to you and your husband. I’m just sending you this letter to tell you to expect some registered mail from my lawyer. I never bothered spending two grands on covering your name. My boyfriend proposed to me last month and we need your signed approval to get married in Washington State. Only my partner, my lawyer, our witnesses and our officiant will know. There are non-disclosure laws for lawyers and officiants, and I fully trust my witnesses (same boat) and my partner of course. _

_Please, sign everything. This man is the one for me._

_I hope you’re having a good life, _

_Mary Rose. _

He sure has a good life.

He hoped she has, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's all for it ! I hope you enjoyed !

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr](http://insertatitlehere.tumblr.com/)   
[Other OMGCP works](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Bfandom_ids%5D%5B%5D=1147379&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&commit=Sort+and+Filter&user_id=emimix3)


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